


BAKER STREET ZOO

by Queenoftheuniverse



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpacas, Angst, Angst and Humor, Animal Death, Crying, Dom/sub, Elephants, Fluff and Angst, Gay, Gay hedgehogs, Goats, Hedgehogs, Hyenas, M/M, Meerkats, Men Crying, One tiny racsist slur, Ordinary foxes, Petting zoo, Poachers, Python - Freeform, Sheep & Goats, Silver Fox Lestrade, Super mean to Mary soz, Super sad feels, Tusk damage, Vet!MrsHudson, White tiger, You will hardly notice it, Zoo, silver foxes, sub!Sherlock, top!John, vet!John, zookeepers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-07
Updated: 2013-10-04
Packaged: 2017-12-14 05:23:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 27,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/833244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenoftheuniverse/pseuds/Queenoftheuniverse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft Holmes owns Britains most well run zoos along with his better half, Head Keeper and Fox Wrangler Greg Lestrade.</p><p>Veterinarian John Watson is hired to take over the petting zoo after the previous holder of that title was killed in a terrible Rice Threshing accident. </p><p>Then there is Mycrofts enigmatic brother Sherlock, the reptile keeper, and his tarty albino Python Beth, Jim and his white tiger Sebastian, Irene and her Hyenas, Anderson and his Birds of Prey, and Molly the Meerkat keeper.</p><p>This place is a total Zoo!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ONE

BAKER STREET ZOO

CHAPTER ONE

When Baker Street Zoo lost the Keeper of its Petting Zoo to a terrible rice threshing incident on her hols to Vietnam, the Zoo was quite abuzz with whom owner Mycroft Holmes would replace her with.

He had been presented with a great deal of résumés. The Zoo was prestigious, for all its relatively small size and fairly out of the way position. This was simply due to Mycroft and his incredible fore thinking and wonderful vision.

He had taken a run down animal park, injected it with his millions, sorted out the keeper issues, employed a brilliant advertising team and in two years had a Zoo that Britain was proud to call its own. A lot of people wanted to work there. However, Mycroft needed to introduce a Keeper that would fit into his team as well as being good with animals. 

So, even though he had cut the interviews to three, he had really only considered one possible candidate. A man he had had an eye on since his résumé first crossed his desk. Background checks of a very clandestine nature only enhanced Mycrofts opinion of the man he eventually offered the job to.

Veterinarian John Watson, mid thirties,had a magical way with animals and their owners in his very successful veterinary practice. That is, until his drunken sister burned the building down after one very alcohol fuelled weekend, killing herself and some of the animals at the same time, and destroying Johns carefully built life.

Insurance covered him monetarily for the loss of his building and contents. Nothing could compensate him for the loss of his sister and the animals. He took a sabbatical in Thailand but even then, could not stay away from animals. 

England was his home, however, and he soon came back. He had put feelers out in the vet network and had found out about the job going at Baker Street. So he applied for it. Was interviewed, and was the successful applicant. A week later he was the new Petting Zoo Keeper and back up vet for Baker Street Zoo.

He turned up by cab on a Friday afternoon, all his belongings in a duffle bag, all his books in a black rolling suitcase. He was to be one of the few keepers who lived on site as his house had been attatched to the surgery that burned down and he had been living in a beige bedsit which he was more than happy to give up.

Mycroft straightened his waistcoat, put his jacket back on, and left his office to to meet John as he rolled up. He had not let the rest of the keepers know of their new colleague as Mycroft deemed the regular Friday night meeting for friendly drinks and down time in the Zoos restaurant at the end of the day was a fine time to do so.

"Mister Watson." Mycroft smiled. "Pleased you could make it."

"Mister Holmes. Thank you for meeting me." John crinkled a smile at the terribly British looking man, wearing a similar three piece suit as he had worn during the interview process in London.

"It is not a problem Mister Watson."

"Please, call me John."

"Well then, call me Mycroft,please." Mycroft smiled. 

He ran a practised eye over John. John was not a tall man but he was stocky with pleasant blue/green eyes and a smiling face. His hair was blonde and untamed, although cared for. He had taken the time to put on the khaki Baker Street Zoo uniform and it looked good on him.

"Put your bags in the office. I can get them taken to your cottage for you. It is closing up time and the keepers are putting their charges to bed before the weekly meeting in the restaurant. I will introduce you then, but until then, please accept my offer to give you a quick Visual of my Zoo." Mycroft offered.

"Sure." John said. Mycroft led the way in through the front door of the zoo which was then shut and locked behind them and the closed sign flipped by a neat black haired girl in the same khaki zooniform as Johns.

"This is Anthea." Mycroft introduced John. "She usually looks after the sunbears, but she kindly took care of the office today as our usual girl has the 'flu. Anthea, this is John. He is taking over dear Victorias post as Petting Zoo keeper. He has also had veterinarian experience."

"Pleased to meet you John." Anthea said, shaking Johns hand. "See you both in Forages?" she asked, cocking her head to the side.

"Give us ten or so." Mycroft said. "Forages is the in zoo restaurant." he explained to John, who nodded.

Anthea hurried out. She loved the Friday night catch up. In fact, all the team did! It was a time for fun, sometimes games, a few rants sorted. That sort of thing. Mycroft loved a well oiled team, and he had lots of forward thinking ideas about how to go about getting that. Mostly because he inspired people to work together because he was a man people wanted to work for. He had a fantastic work ethic himself, but he also knew when to have fun. The Zoo was a great place to work, simply because of the every day enjoyment Mycroft encouraged.

"Come to the back patio, I'll show you the Zoo from there." Mycroft offered, and they followed Antheas disappearing form.

From the architectually pleasing and expensive broken stone patio John could see the whole Zoo laid out on the gradual down sloping hill it had been built into. In the twilight it looked magical and John beamed. It was gorgeous out here. Mycroft pointed out the various habitats and animals, told some fun stories about some of the logistics, and explained a bit of the routine. Soon John was chuckling. He did not want to get too excited, he had adored being owner of his own Vet practice and that had ended awfully. But so far, this Zoo lark seemed okay.

"May I see my animals?" John asked.

"Of course. Let me introduce you to the team first, then I will gladly show you where you will live and work. I hope you enjoy it here John. We need a man like you here." Mycroft smiled, and led him down a path to a glittering restaurant. Laughter and music poured out as Mycroft opened the door and proceeded John inside.

"The Boss is here!" crowed a black haired Irishman, raising a glass of some sort of amber liquid.

"Hi Boss"

"Hi Mycroft!"

Came the calls, and Mycroft saluted. 

The room was filled with Khaki zooniformed people, all of them smiling, some standing, some sitting. All eyes flitted from Mycroft to John as they crossed the room.

The tables were simple trestles with plastic table cloths on. The chairs were benches. Some keepers already had their food and drinks in front of them, others were lined up at the BBQ in the corner where a jolly round man was cooking sausages. All he need do was slap them on a buttered bun and send the eater to the condiment table for sauces. It was always this simple, the Fridays. Drinks were from the bar though.

"Okay gang, a bit of shush please." Mycroft announced, clapping John on the shoulder as the room quietened down. "This is John Watson. He is taking over where Victoria left off. Please make him welcome."

"Hi John!" called Sally, the skunk keeper cried. She was dark, with floofy hair traped in a straining scrunchy.

"Welcome to the mad house!" Irene the Hyena keeper added. She was elegant with fresh lipstick on.

"Yeah, it's seriously like a Zoo here!" Dimmock the giraffe keeper joked and the rest of them laughed. He looked way too small to be in charge of such tall animals.

A dishy silver haired man in khaki came up and kissed Mycroft on the cheek, then shook Johns hand.

"Greg Lestrade, head keeper, and Mycrofts better half." he said, brown eyes flashing and he winked. "Anything you need, see me, not this ponce. He will make you do paperwork. Ergh!"

John laughed and Mycroft poked Greg in the ribs.

"So, John, tell us a bit about yourself." Mycroft said, passing him a beer which he sipped greatfully.

"Ah. Okay. My names John, obviously." John said, facing the crowd. "From London. I had a vet practice for a while, but when that...didn't work anymore, I went to Thailand to work with the animals there. Then I came back and got this job. I am Thirty-Five, non smoker, single...." 

(cat calls at this and jokes tossed to the single ladies. John blushed. Not his area.) 

"I enjoy anatomy, hedgehogs and I am a crack shot with a pistol."

More calls of welcome, questions and answers, until the side door opened. In walked the last keeper.

"Sorry I am late, I thought Beth was going into labour but turns out she was just being a tart." the deep baritone of the tall newcomer washed over the crowd. He was over six feet, in the Same khaki zooniform as them all, but it was very mussed. His black curly hair was held back in a red and white bandana headband like some metrosexual Beckham wanna be and his face was dusted with dirt.

"Like keeper like snake!" James the Tiger keeper, the dark haired Irishman, joked and the man laughed and sent James a V with his fingers. James blew him a sarcastic kiss.

"This is John, the new Pet Keeper and vet." Mycroft said, indicating John. "John, my baby brother and reptile keeper Sherlock."

Sherlock bound up and shook Johns hand enthusiastically. 

"Hi John." he said, then cocked his head, his amazing sea green eyes boring into Johns stunned and breathless face. The small blonde man had forgotten the breathe the second Mycrofts brother had arrived and now he had the Adonises full attention his heart was threatening to leap from his throat and tango around the room.

"Here it comes..." Irene announced.

"Do your thing Sherlock" Anderson the Birds of Prey keeper called, not entirely kindly.

"Yes, it's coming, don't rush me you philistines." Shsrlock frowned, not taking his eyes from John. Then he bit his bottom lip, and squinted his eyes slightly.

"Uh...." said John, not sure what was going on.

"John...." Sherlock said, then froze the new keeper with one simple sentence.

"African or Indian?"

#


	2. TWO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John proves himself a zoo hero, and meets his Alpacas.
> 
>  
> 
> Shiny penny for the person who notes the Discworld reference.

CHAPTER TWO

"Erm...." John said.

"The elephant that stuck you in the shoulder with his tusk." Sherlock said, smiling. Some of the keepers went oooooooohhhhhh in a fun way, and one said "Cos of the mud on his left sock Sherlock?"

"Um..." John said. "sorry....how?"

"I googled you, I am not that good." Sherlock smiled.

"But I didn't tell you who I picked." Mycroft said.

"Oh I deduced THAT. I am THAT good Myc!" Sherlock winked at John. "Now, the tusk?"

"It was not an elephant." John said. "That is, an elephant was not attached to it. But it was a tusk." he added.

"Ah. That was not mentioned in the article." Sherlock said.

"What article?" Molly the meerkat keeper asked, tying her brown hair back into a floppy pony tail to keep it from her mouth while she ate.

Sherlock turned and put his arm around Johns shoulder. He addressed the gathered keepers proudly.

"Our John Watson took on poachers in Thailand and won."

The silence was impressive and John blushed. Yeah, well, it meant something to a room of feral animal lovers. Then, someone clapped, the whole room joined in. Sherlock then turned to him, clapping, and even Mycroft and Greg applauded too.

"Na, Na, come on!" John said, shuffling and grinning and turning redder.

"Mate, that's awesome!" Greg said, smacking a hand on Johns shoulder. The claps died down.

"To answer your question, Indian." John said. "Indian elephant. One of the poachers got me in the back with a tusk just before the police got to the warehouse."

"How many poachers did they get John?" Mycroft asked.

"All of them." John said. "None of them got away. But the haul of ivory and pelts and skulls..." John shook his head. "Awful."

There was a general growl and grumble at the horrors of poaching and then Sherlock invited John to sit with him. Molly brought over drinks and food for them both and sat next to Sherlock. John sensed she liked Sherlock a lot, so he relaxed, sure he was not being set up for a date or whatever. Really not his division....

Sherlock hoed into his Sausage Innabun as if he had not eaten in forty nine years. John happily ate his too. It was really nice.

"Vegetarian sausages." Molly explained. "Mycrofts idea. We cannot look after some animals and eat others."

"Uh....I know, it's one of the reasons I wanted this post so much. That and the Alpacas." John said. "I have been studying them. Best of all, I can bring my pets with me. They are coming tomorrow."

"Cats, John? I have a cat. Toby!" Molly said proudly.

"He's not allowed cats here Mols." Sherlock said gently and she nodded, blushing. 

"I do love cats Molly." John said. "But I know I can't have them here. My pets are hedgehogs. Jack and Ianto. They will be great in the petting zoo, and I can keep them close. I miss them. They were the only thing I could save..." he trailed off. "They are being boarded but they need to be back with me."

"Are you living in the Zoo then?" Molly asked.

"On call night vet." Sherlock said, and John nodded.

After they had fed, Sherlock offered to show John his animals and cottage, and Mycroft agreed. He and Greg were happy to stay in Forages with the test of the team. Molly sensed she was not invited and went to join Mike the seal keeper and Angelo the cook at their table.

Sherlock and John left with a wave. 

The path down to Johns cottage and the petting zoo stable was winding and well lit but the night was a full moon and everything looked silver. John grinned and shivered a bit. This place was magical to him. 

Sherlock pointed out the various paths and animals as they went along, but John really only had eyes for the way forward, eager to see his animals.

"And this is you." Sherlock finally said. The house was small, ivy covered with an ancient but recently repaired thatched roof. Next to it was a newer building of honeyed pine with the sign "Petting Zoo" above it. Sherlock unlocked the stable-like building and then put the keys in Johns hand. John grinned, clutched the keys, and pushed the door open.

The warm smell of hay and poo hit him, with the undersmell of warm animals gathered in a herd. He breathed in a huge breath and smiled.

"Oh that's the ticket!" he sighed, as Sherlock switched the lights on and John saw his charges for the first time.

A wooden aisle bisected the building and on each side were stalls with animals in it. Tiny goats, some sheep, rabbits, pigs, a cow... so many lovely animals that kids loved to touch. And then, down the end, two perfect alpacas, Johns most favourite animals. He really only had eyes for them and, saying a quick hello to each stall as he passed, he hurried down to the furry little ruminants.

"Their names are Ben and Tracey." Sherlock said quietly, leaning on one of the strong, square poles that held up the roof and also had the gate to the goats stall hung from it. He watched Johns eyes light up as he put out his hand. Little Tracey came up straight away to sniff him. She was a delightful auburn colour, with hair in her eyes and bottom teeth sticking out comically. John gave her muzzle a good rub, and that's when Ben decided to wander over.

He was black haired and taller, but with the same hair and teeth issues. John was able to give him lovin's too. 

"Oh they are so gorgeous." John said reverently. He did not know what it was about alpacas that he adored but here were two wonderful specimens, and all his to look after! John was one very happy camper. "Have they bred?" 

"Not yet." Sherlock said. "no-one knows why. They are healthy, the right age, and not related."

"Oh we can fix that, can't we sweeties?" John said to the alpacas, scrubbing his hand down Tracey's flank. "Yes we can, my dumplings. Yes we can!"

Sherlock snickered and heaved himself forward to pat Bens head.

"Well, they like you. They tried to bite Victoria, rest her soul."Sherlock said.

"I see, when were you going to let me know they were biters?" John asked, floofing Tracey's fringe.

"After they bit you." Sherlock said, and John laughed. 

"Well, I think they have perfect manners." he said. "Who was looking after them till I got here?"

"Mycroft." Sherlock said. "When he had time. It's fun to see him, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, mucking out cow shite."

"Well, it needs to be done."

"I am well aware." Sherlock said dryly. "I took over when business took Myc elsewhere."

"Oh well, thanks. It looks marvellous in here."

"Mycroft pours all his money into this zoo. It's his life's work. He turns a profit if course but he just pours it back it. And you can tell. These animals want for nothing." Sherlock said. "And I am really glad he has this zoo, and these people, and these critters." His eyes were soft when he talked of his brother. 

"And he has Greg. Did he get the head job through nepotism?" John asked, genuinely asking, not meanly.

"No, that happened when Greg saved Billie-Jean, a rare silver fox that had a bee allergy. Greg gave her mouth to muzzle. It was amazing." Sherlock smiled. "But yes, before you ask, I DID get the reptile house because of nepotism. I have always been obsessed with pythons so Mycroft dangled Beth in front of my eyes. She was a sickly albino baby python from a hoarder house. Mycroft told me if I stopped injecting recreational substances she could be mine."

"Oh...ah...okay?" John said. "So...drugs hey?"

"John, I gave them up in a heartbeat for Beth. She needed me." Sherlock shrugged. "Now she is six feet long and pregnant. And I have a whole reptile house to care for. Mycroft and the snakes gave me back my life."

"Well, that's awesome then."

"This zoo is amazing John Watson." Sherlock added. "It will give you YOUR life back too."

"I have a life thank you Sherlock. It's fine. It's all fine."

"Of course you do John." Sherlock said, smiling at him. "Of course you do."

Tracey took the opportunity to hock a llama-lugie at John that hit him in the chest.

"Ha ha, welcome to Baker Street John!" Sherlock snickered. 

"I think I would have rathered a muffin basket." John laughed, and reached for a towel to clean the alpaca spit from his nice new zooniform. "But this is still pretty darn good!"

#


	3. THREE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I personally had lesbian intrspecies pets. I know it is not an aberration. It is quite normal.

CHAPTER THREE

John was up and out just as the sun rose the next morning. He donned a fresh zooniform, slid on aloe Vera socks, strapped on his Kevlar (not leather) boots, had a quick cup of tea and bite of toast, and raced next door.

He spent almost two hours feeding, watering, cleaning, inspecting, and chatting to his charges. Few chatted back, but he did not mind. Animals were great listeners, better pals and nicer beings than humans to Johns mind. 

A quick look at his watch later saw that the zoo would be open in an hour and his hedgys were due. He debated harnessing up the alpacas and leading them to the front of the zoo to wait, but decided he had better get to know them a lot better before he did that.

When he got to the front office he noticed a new girl at the desk. He assumed this was the girl who had been ill the day before. She was brunette and freckle nosed, with warm brown eyes.

"Oh well hi, you must be John." she said brightly, standing to introduce herself. John shook her hand warmly.

"Hi. Pleased to meet you." John said in a per-functionary but not unfriendly way.

"I'm Mary. How do you like the place so far?" she said brightly, all bloused and skirted and sunny.

"It's pretty good. I love my animals. Speaking of, my hedgys are due here soon, have they come?" 

"Hedgys?" Mary frowned and cocked her head. John sighed inwardly. She was doing this deliberately, and he was disappointed.

"Hedgehogs. Jack and Ianto." he explained shortly.

Mary screwed up her nose in what he assumed was supposed to be endearing and pretty. He noticed, of course, but he was immune. Actually, he was pretty much immune to any human. Humans...not his specialty.

"And they are your...pets?"

"They are hand raised yes, from a couple of hedgehogs I hand raised. First gen hand raised, useless in the wild poor things. I am going to acclimatise them and put them into the petting zoo." John explained. He was a bit edgy now. They were late and Mary was just so annoyingly human and THERE.

"Oh, okay. Unusual...so spikey, how do you cuddle them?"

"Same way they cuddle me, I am just as spikey."

"Oh I am sure that's not true."

John sighed. Of course, now could someone hate cuddling. He quickly concluded she was not a listener and dismissed her from his mind.

The door opened then and an elderly lady in the zooniform entered, carrying a pink bottomed cage.

"Picked these guys up from a postvan out the front." she said.

"My boys!" John said, stepping forward and taking the cage from the lady. Inside were his two tiny hedgys, tottering and sniffing. "Hello babys! Oh look at you, I missed you so much!" he looked up and thanked the lady for bringing them in.

"Ah, Doctor Watson, I presume? Magaretta Hudson. I'm the vet here."

"Hudson?" John said "As in Hudson of the Sudan?"

"My reputation precedes me." Margaretta smiled, and shook Johns hand.

"Wow..." John dimpled. "I cannot believe I am actually meeting you! And you are the head vet? Man...that is awesome!"

Some humans were A-OK, and a woman who put herself in the firing line for Elephants, quite literally staring down the Sudanese Rebel Alliance and their AK47s, was practically as good as a hedgehog or alpaca in Watsons book. And didn't Mary notice? She did indeed. She popped open a button on her blouse though. Breasts beat anything anytime!

"Thank you Watson." Mrs Hudson was saying. "And I know about you as well. Believe me, the pleasure is mine. What you did in Thailand was amazing."

"I did what needed to be done."

"Oh you went above and beyond Watson. You really did."

John actually blushed and Mary giggled. John glanced her way, coughed, and held up the cage. He did not notice her breasts. Unbelievable.

"Better get these guys settled."

"I'll be down to your section soon. Have you been told about Zelda, the goat? With cystitis?"

"No, although Mycroft has the notes on the animals for me. He is sending them down later today. I look forward to seeing you down there later."

"See you soon Watson."

Mary rushed to open the door for John, who smiled his thanks, and exited, still not looking down her top.

Mary turned to Mrs Hudson and sighed.

"Oh he's cute."

"Sweetie, give it up. You don't strike me as a dominatrix who is into beastiality." 

"Uh...what?" Mary asked, face appalled.

"Watson, my dear. Give it up. It's like flogging a dead horse."

"Oh, ah, oh...um...okay..." poor Mary said as Mrs Hudson sailed through to her surgery chuckling, not unkindly, at the young and ditzy girl.

Mary flicked her hair haughtily. What would that stupid old crone know? Seriously, sure, she did stuff a hundred years ago that like...saved some animals or something, but what was she, like....eighty? What would she know about love and stuff. John would be putty in her hands...she plumped her lips and sat confidently at her desk. She had some work to do.

#

John put his hedgehogs into a chicken-wire run within the rabbit enclosure. They could look out and sniff, as could the rabbits, but they could not mix. John had prepared this place carefully for his boys. He did not want them isolated but he also did not want the tiny boys injured.

"Jack, Ianto, meet the girls. Be nice to them. They are rare Tibetan lop eared bunnies, very puffed up in their own importance. No need to spike them or bite them though, okay, because we want them to make lots of lovely babies for us. Soon as we can find a husband for them of course." John told his little mates.

The rabbits were a bit interested for a while, especially when John brought out the food, but when the lop ears noticed it was ikky bugs they hopped disgustedly away, floofy tails twitching in indignation.

John was soon swept up in the joy of children squeeing at his animals, parents herding kids through, single mums flirting with him, and constant cleaning and questions. 

John had no real patience with humans, it has been said, but he could talk forever and a day about animals, even answering the same question forty-seven thousand times a day.

A bit often lunchtime a snake-draped Sherlock turned up with a handful of paper files. He looked quite odd, tall and thin with a dirty zooniform and once again smudged face and sweaty bandana headband holding back his wild black curls. He was patient with the children's questions about whom John assumed was Beth the tarty pregnant python but eventually they were left alone as the little varmints dragged their parents away for ice cream and drinks as it was lunch time.

"Hudson asked me to bring these." Sherlock said, and John took the Manila folders happily.

"Great, I am concerned about Zelda."

"Cystitis." Sherlock nodded, and John agreed. 

"Here, sit. Tea?" John offered Sherlock a seat. "You have time?"

"Tea would be lovely." Sherlock said, admiring the setup John had made at the back of the enclosure. Tea things, jug, seats and a desk so he could work right in amongst his animals. There was even a camping bed set way in the corner.

John absently flicked the jug on and sat at the desk, spreading the files. Sherlock sat opposite him, stroking the impressive head of his python, no sexual innuendo intended.

John read furiously, frowning. 

"I know, it's been bad, but she's come along nicely." Sherlock said softly. John nodded, then looked up and over at the goat in question.

"She's very young." he said. Zelda bleated at the other goats and shook her little tail. Her little coffee coloured coat twitched an insect off and she bleated again. She was very cute indeed. She was bloated, though, and John knew cystitis was nasty. 

"She has youth on her side." Sherlock agreed. John nodded, brain working a billion miles an hour, going through all the treatments he could try on this frankly lovely little goat. Then he shook himself. He turned to Sherlock but only had eyes for his snake, no sexual pun intended.

"Tell me about her, she's truly beautiful." John said, soothingly stroking the python under the jaw. Sherlock tensed ever so slightly and John looked up questioningly.

"Well, she usually hates having her jaw stroked." Sherlock grinned.

"Oh..." John removed his hand. "Sorry Beth." he said to the snake. Sherlock kept grinning.

"Thank you for addressing her, not me." he said. "It's amazing how many people don't do that."

John smiled, eyes still on Beth, who's little forked tongue slipped out and waggled around. John leaned forward.

"How old are you pretty one?"

"I am thirty two." Sherlock quipped. "But Beth is five. She is stunted from her early life in the hoarder house."

"And a true Albino I see." John said, still to the snake, not to Sherlock. Sherlock was so pleased he actually laughed. 

"I know, she's a beauty."

"When is she due?" John finally looked up into Sherlocks amazing eyes. What colour were they? Green? 

"Not for a while yet. I am keeping her with me as much as I can because it's her first clutch. I know it's unusual, but we have bonded." Sherlock said, amazing eyes soft.

"And the father of her babies?" John asked.

"He's another albino Burmese from Whipsnade. The snake keeper there and I were not sure if they would even mate."

"I wish you luck my pretty." John said, holding the tip of Beths tail and stroking it gently with his thumb. Beth had slowly coiled most of herself around one of Sherlocks impressive arms during the conversation and her egg-rounded length could easily been seen. John knew some pythons laid one hundred or so eggs in a clutch. He doubted Beth would, as she was quite small, but he found himself thrilled at the thought of baby pythons slithering around. And if HE was excited, Sherlock must be dancing on pins!

Sherlock had never seen anyone so besotted with animals before. It seemed John had fallen in love with Beth the second he had met her. This, to Sherlock, showed him to be a good man.

"Tell me about your boys." Sherlock interrupted Johns wonder softly.

"Oh, yes, come and see." John said, and perked up, tea forgotten. He led Sherlock over to the rabbit enclosure. "This is Jack and Ianto."

Sherlock laughed. "They are so sweet!" he said, eyes sparkling.

"Not for eating,Beth." John whispered to Beth, who flickered her tongue in disdain.

"Are they brothers?" Sherlock asked.

"No, different parents. I had five hand reared hedgehogs in the..." John stopped. He had not been able to save three of the five hedgehogs from the fire. The two he did save were already with child, these two little ones.

"How old?" Sherlock asked.

"Little over a year. An expert looked after the mums while I was in Thailand. When I...got back these two had been born and I took over their care. The mums...didn't live much longer after the birth. It was awful...just...but look at these two. How healthy they are."

"Oh..." Sherlock said then, watching the hedgehogs in the hay in front of him. "Um...so, I know you know more about these things than I do, but sure you sure they are both male?"

John laughed. "Yes, they are."

"They seem...very fond of each other."

"Sherlock, really...next you will say one is sick and the other is pushing him to hospital." John laughed. "No, they doing exactly what you think they are. Having sex. Jack and Ianto are gay hedgehogs....only ones on the world."

#


	4. FOUR

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is death and sad bits in this chapter, but we learn the depths of Johns feels for animals.
> 
> Also, I know a little bit aboot Cystitis but I have tweaked a little poetic licence because of reasons.

CHAPTER FOUR

That afternoon Hudson came down with her kit to get a good look at Zelda. John was just changing the bedding in all the enclosures, wheeling the soiled stuff to the compost heap behind his house where the zoo gardeners could access it. That was the main reason the grass was so lush in this particular zoo. Lots of manure.

"Hey Watson." Hudson waved, stethoscope round her neck. "How's our little one today?"

"I was just about to let them out into the front enclosure. The sheep and alpacas have been out, it's the goats turn next." John said. While each pen was cleaned, John had the opportunity to shoo the animals out the front to a large, safely enclosed paddock for some outdoor and exercise time.

"Let me just check Zelda over."

"Go ahead."

"She been eating?"

"Like a horse."

"Drinking?"

"Quite a bit."

Hudson nodded, stethoscope to her ears and the goats belly. John took off his gardening gloves and stroked the goats hairy little head. The goat leaned into his palm and sighed. Don't think Hudson did not notice this. The man had been here not even a day and already the goat was in love with him.

Then she frowned. 

Standing up she removed the plugs and flung the scope back around her neck. John was still scratching the little goats head.

"John." she said. John refused to look up. "John..."

"I knew it." he said. "I get a sense of these things. She's been drinking and bleating all afternoon...." 

"She has Cystitis John. This is usually not a death sentence but Zelda..."

"I know. I know!" John said sharply, finally looking up. "Is there anything we can do?"

"It's pure luck she has come this far." Hudson said. "I have been treating her as best I can but John her urinary tract is shot, she is pissing pus, and her blood work came back today with a very low white cell count. It would be a kindness to-"

"No." John said, shaking his head. "No, no, I just got here, please don't.."

"John. It is cruel. Let her go." Hudson said sharply, but not unkindly.

"I'm...not ready..."

"I know." Hudson said, and she did. She had a soft spot for this goat. This brave little goat had only been kept alive by sheer force of will. But sometimes, even force of will was not enough.

"The circle of life sucks." John said, rubbing his thumbs over the eyes of the goat, who once again sighed. John could see the bloated belly of Zelda rock with the motion and he knew that was all urine, blood and pus, filling the goats stomach, slowly poisoning her.

"I will do it after closing time." Hudson said. "Give you some time with her..."

"No. I will." John said. "with your permission. Outside. So she can see the stars." he put his head down so Hudson would not see his tears. She knew though, she knew. She had been there many times.

"Would you like me to stay while you do it?" Hudson offered.

"You have come so far with her. She would probably like it."

Hudson nodded. 

#

After the zoo closed and the animals were bedded down, John led Zelda out into the yard. Even in the few hours since Hudson had come the goat had gone down hill. She had been in pain and John had given her a sedative, not too much, just enough to take the edge off.

Then, as the sun set, Hudson arrived. John had Zeldas head in his lap. The goat was on her side, breathing heavily, her rounded side heaving. Her eyes were closed as John stroked her muzzle.

"You ready sweetheart?" Hudson touched Johns shoulder. John nodded, not taking his eyes off the goat. Hudson got the injection ready and passed it to John. He took it in a hand that was steady as a rock. He kissed the goats nose.

"Goodbye princess." he whispered, and sent the plunger home.

In ten minutes Zelda had passed. John was aware he was crying of course, and that Hudson had packed away the vet gear. But his ears picked something else up, something away up the hill, towards forages. Singing. It was singing.

He looked up through blurry eyes to see lights dancing along the path towards his petting zoo. Candles. Now the words became clear.

Amazing Grace.

Then, in the feeble lights, he could see flashes of khaki zooniform. It was the other keepers, singing Zelda to her rest. As they got closer it was too much for John. He slid out from the goat, placed her head gently on the grass, and walked swiftly away. The strains of Amazing Grace followed him but he blocked his ears and began to run.

He fell into the hay of the goats enclosure, covered his face and sobbed and sobbed until Zeldas two sister-goats came over to nibble his hair and sniff at his tear stained face.

#

"Mycroft, I think we should give him more time." Sherlock said. 

They were outside Johns cottage. Zeldas body had been carried to the animal graveyard in the Peace Garden, rarely opened to the public. Mycroft had made a green and pleasant place with flower bushes, trees and a lovely low stone fence to delineate the graveyard from the zoo. Death, he knew, was a part of life and every animal that had passed in the zoo was buried there with a headstone and a day of remembrance. Yet another reason the zoo stood apart from others. To almost everyone employed in this zoo, this sort of process was normal and healthy.

But John was new. He did not know the traditions, the processes of this place. Mycroft wanted him to know.

"I would never have guessed he would take her death so hard." Greg said, voice low.

"None of us did. And he probably assumed we would dissect and eat Zelda or something. Lord knows that what happens in other zoos." Mycroft said. "I wish I had seen him this afternoon to tell him."

"You were away most of the day love." Greg said.

"I was. I still wish I had taken the time."

"Myc...let me speak to him...please?" Sherlock said. He was still in his dirty zooniform, having been the one who actually helped dig the hole for Zelda, along with Jim and Dimmock. He looked earnestly at Mycroft in the soft porch light of Johns cottage. Mycroft searched his brothers face, then nodded.

"Convey my condolences and my apologies Sherlock, please."

"Of course." Sherlock said. 

Mycroft hooked his arm in Gregs and they made their way back up to forages to have a drink with the staff who had had the time to remain back a little that night in remembrance of Zelda. To most, Zelda was not just a goat. John, Mycroft hoped, would soon realise just how important each and every animal was at Baker Street.

#

Sherlock knocked as soon as Mycroft and Greg were swallowed up in the night.

"John, are you there?"

"I'm....not in Sherlock." came Johns voice, loudly, knowing how ridiculous it sounded.

"Will you let me in anyway? I have some things I need to tell you."

"No, please, I am...." John trailed away. He could not say he was mourning a goat he had only known twenty-four hours now could he? He was fine with it, but other people...well, Harry, his dear departed sister, had always told him he was a sap for caring so much about animals. Over people. Over her.

"John, please, I do not want to have this conversation through the door."

"I'm crying over a damn goat Sherlock, leave me alone!" John sing songed. He bent over the table, head in his hands, wishing for the tenth time in his life that alcoholism did not run in his family. His bracing tea had gone cold and he could not be bothered making another one.

Sherlock sighed, reached into his top pocket, and pulled out his lock pick. Take the man out of the drug habits, cannot take the residual lessons from those drug habits out of the man...

#


	5. FIVE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is more to Watson crying like a girl. And Mary, bless her, she sure is a trier!
> 
> (Sorry aboot the Mary bashing but...reasons, okay? I love Hot John. She should never ever touch him. I am normal. I swear. But Mary makes me want to go a slappin'.)

CHAPTER FIVE

John was at the cottages' dining table, his side to Sherlock. His shoulders were hunched and shaking. Both his hands were over his face Sherlock realised John was weeping.

Weeping!

"John-"

John reached out one hand and flapped it at Sherlock, motioning him away, or to be quiet, or that whatever it was was too big to explain in mere words. Christ, how long had he been like this? Since he put poor Zelda down? That had been hours ago. Hours!

"John, please-" Sherlock took a other step forward and John choked wetly. This time he put his hand up in a stop gesture, made more poignant by the fact his whole arm was trembling. "John....can I help?"

"No." John sobbed, shaking his head, his face still covered by his hands. This was awful, this was awful, Sherlock was at a loss. Perhaps this was more than the loss of a goat. 

"Christ, I just wanted privacy." John moaned into his hands.

"John-"

"You think I like this?" John roared, surging to his feet, the chair falling to the ground behind him with a clatter. "You think I..." he drew in a sob, eyes skittering all over the floor, finding nothing to catch them, waiting for words, throwing his arm out. "A GOAT! A damn....goat..." he shuddered, and covered his face again, shoulders heaving.

Sherlock had stepped back and tensed when John had leaped to his feet, but he straightened when he saw John was distraught rather than a danger. Make no mistake, he knew John Watson could be formidable, he had read the reports on what had happened in that poachers warehouse, but right now he was...what? Vulnerable?

Words popped into Sherlocks head.

"Watson, where do you think you are?"

"I am not hallucinating. I am not having a fucking flashback!" John spat. 

Interesting.....Sherlock tucked this knowledge into his vast brain.

"That's not what I meant. I meant...where are you? This zoo, Baker Street." Sherlock said,voice deeper as it got softer. "It's a place staffed with people who would join you in crying over a goat."

"Ha, yeah, sure." John snapped. "I cannot imagine you crying over anything."

"I could barely see to dig her grave John." Sherlock said, voice still soft and low. "I am telling you, this grief, this feeling, you don't need to hide it here."

John was silent now, and still. His hands dropped from his face and he turned to Sherlock.

"She was just a little goat. I barely knew her...."

"She was a warm and living thing who relied on us for her care and protection and we let her down." Sherlock answered. "Every single one of us feel that each time one of our animals dies, even ones that die of old age. We are connected to our charges here. That's why Mycroft hired us. Because we mourn little goats we barely knew. John...you are not alone here. You are not the odd man out with your feelings and your reactions. We are a family here. A strange and wonderful family thrown together by our passion for the care and welfare of animals. Please...please, come to Zeldas grave. Pay your respects..."

"You....you gave her a proper burial?" John asked in wonder. No goat burgers. No goat skin rug for sale in the gift shop. A proper grave.

"Lestrade read the service." Sherlock said.

"I....I didn't know. I thought you just would have...thrown her away."

"I would sooner douse my balls in acid than treat the body of Zelda with anything but kindness and dignity."

John allowed a crooked smile to appear on his face at ths image but he could tell Sherlock really meant it.

He stared at Sherlock, eyes wet and gleaming in the dull lamp that was the only thing illuminating room. Then he took a deep breath.

"I'll get my coat." he said, and turned to do just that.

#

The wind was cold and biting, and Sherlock shivered. He had no coat but he wanted to stand with John.

The man himself was standing a little bit away, hands shoved into the pockets of his khaki jacket, staring down at the black mound of earth that represented Zelda's last resting place. Around the mound were burned-down candles, and a scattering of flowers and the weed Zelda loved to eat. This alone was all the proof John needed that these people were far different to others he had been around. 

Suddenly, a sense of peace rested on his shoulders. What was his problem? All the evidence fit. These people were as wacky about animals as he was. It was okay to let them know he loved animals more than humans. It was more than okay, it was expected, embraced, and taken as normal. John smiled through his Zelda tears.

"Goodbye princess." he whispered again, turned, and nearly smacked into Sherlock. He had completely forgotten the man had been there. He looked up at him quickly assessed his state. Shivering, teeth chattering, arms crossed over his chest, hands under his armpits.

"Christ mate, you're freezing! Get inside!" John snapped, concerned.

"Just wanted to make sure you were okay." Sherlock commented through his clicking teeth.

"I'm fine. You live onsite yeah?" John asked, looking up the hill to the lights at Forages. "Or...shall we join them?"

"Forages...open fire....tea!""

"Here." John slipped off his coat and put it around Sherlocks shoulders. Sherlock did not protest. The coat was down filled, had a fur collared hood, smelled of John and was so big you could strap a Semtex bomb around yourself and still look trim.

They made their way up the hill to the warm inviting Café.

#

The gang cheered John when he arrived, raising their hot toddy's and teas and coffees, thanking him and telling him he did the right thing. Hudson and Molly kissed his cheeks, Lestrade and Jim shook his hand, Mike clapped a meaty hand on his shoulder and Angelo passed him a cup of hot tea. He instantly passed it to Sherlock who took it great fully and a bit surprised. His coat, now his tea?

Mary, who had not cared a jot for a stinky old goat but had stayed behind in the hopes of catching Johns eye, took the mans arm and led him to the open fire. 

"You stayed late." John said, as she pressed another tea into his mildly freezing hands. 

"Wanted to make sure Zena was properly laid to rest." Mary said, still clinging to his arm. She pressed her best breast into his bicep and stared up at him, eyes wide, giving it her best shot.

"Zelda." John said, sipping the tea and slitting his eyes ever so slightly. 

"Hm?" Mary simpered, letting her tongue poke a bit out on her freshly made-up lips.

"The goat. Her name was Zelda." 

"Oh, yes. Pretty name."

"Pretty goat." John said. He looked up from Mary's limpid eyes and caught Sherlocks gaze on him. Now THAT was pretty. He looked adorable in Johns coat, the faux fur framing those extraordinary cheekbones and frankly bloody amazing eyes. He suddenly winked, nodded his head to Mary and making a face. Sherlock snorted into his tea, looking away to take in something Greg was saying.

Mycroft was the one who rescued John from Mary by inviting him into his office. John excused himself politely, ignoring the sensual parting of Mary's lips as he made his escape.

"Doctor, I must apologise." Mycroft said, closing the door and waving to a chair. John sat and Mycroft sat opposite him, not quite facing him. He crossed his legs lightly and allowed his ankle to twist a bit.

"What on earth for?" John asked, taking a gulp of his lovely tea.

"I did not expect to have to tell you our death of an animal policies and procedures so soon. Never-the-less, I should have let you know." he crossed his legs the other way, a bit twitchy. "I would also like to thank you for taking good care of Zelda's final hours."

"Please, Mrs Hudson deserves the praise." John said. "I only waltzed in at the eleventh hour."

"She has my admiration of course, but you did no small thing John." Mycroft said. "Even not knowing what is required of you here, you went with your natural instincts and protected a very fine animal until her last breath." John could hear the zoo owners voice strangle a bit around a lump in his throat. "She was a good goat and a fine animal."

"She was." John nodded.

"I best let you get back in. I believe Mary was looking after you." 

John nodded but he hoped with all his heart Mary had given up and gone home. He had a feeling that, short of yelling in her face, Mary would not get the hint. Even without Sherlock in the wings he would not have been interested in Mary. Not his department.oh, who was he kidding. Not his preferred gender, never had been. Don't tell his mum. 

Wait a minute...Sherlock in the wings? John smiled...oh...oh how cute. He had a crush. He had not had one of these since his dishy large animal professor at Veterinary College. 

So it seemed he was coming to terms with a new want. He wanted Sherlock, swallowed in that khaki coat, to be standing next to him in front of the fire, clutching his arm and pressing into his side. Not pushy Mary with her forceful breasts and ferocious lipstick and fishy eyes.

Odd....it had been a great deal of years since his pants had stirred at the thought of Doctor Llewellyn, and here they were, stirring at the thought of the sweaty, hard working, mother hen to a pregnant python reptile keeper at Baker Street Zoo.

He chuckled to himself in quite a manly way. Sure, his insecurities would descend again, but right now he was giddy with the release of many strong emotions.

Nice one Watson...!

#


	6. SIX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock wants John but stresses that John is too damaged to let him in.

CHAPTER SIX

Mycroft and Greg sat on the couch in Gregs on site cottage, sipping tea. Sherlocks head (with Beth's blunt head curled under his chin) was in Mycrofts lap. They were content to listen to a soft brass band version of Egmont Overture. The brothers had similar eclectic taste in music and, Greg suspected, Beth did too. 

Greg had a lap full of Sherlocks legs and Beth's tail. He had long got used to the tactile way the brothers were. They had been estranged during Sherlocks frightful drug years, and to have them build up such a closeness now was nice. Greg was close to his younger brother too, all huggy, but Brian was away in France with the Leeds FC club he coached and was not due back in the country for a few months yet.

And of course, to love Mycroft was to love Sherlock, and with Sherlock came Beth. Greg liked the CONCEPT of snakes, of course, they were living beings, but he was at a loss to see how one could love them, at least to the adoration that Sherlock showed. However, Greg was the same with the foxes, especially Billie-Jean, the fox he saved with mouth to muzzle after a frightful allergic reaction to a bee sting.

"Sherlock, you think John is fitting into our zoo family?" Mycroft asked. Sherlock rumbled a low sound that sounded non-comital.

"You concerned Myc?" Greg asked, laying his arm over the back of the couch and stroking behind Mycrofts ear. Mycroft nuzzled into the fingers. Greg was lovely.

"A little." Mycroft said. "His reaction to Zelda's death was...expansive, even to someone with his depth of care for animal life."

"Mycroft, don't be obtuse." Sherlock commented, eyes still closed, absently stroking the pythons head. No sexual pun intended.

"You have an opinion Sherlock?" Greg chuckled. Sherlock was sometimes über rude and, while it galled Greg that he got away with it, it was part of accepting who Sherlock was.

"Johns reaction was about more than Zelda's death, sad as it was. We all feel her passing. She was a good goat." Sherlock said.

All three paused. Greg and Mycroft nodded.

"Enlighten us, genius brother of mine." Mycroft said, smiling and winking at Greg, who smiled back knowingly.

"I would be glad to, and don't think I cannot sense your indulgent smiles." Sherlock said. "Zelda's death made John recall other times he had been helpless in the face of something ELSE he could not stop, say, the burning of his practice with his sister inside."

"Oh..." Greg said, staring at the open fie and nodding again.

"Of course." Mycroft added.

"Is he stable enough to continue here you think Sherlock?" Greg asked.

"That's a trifle unfair Greg." Sherlock said. "He is a stable as any of us. You try watching your sister, practice and animals burn, then run away to a totally different country and get tusked in the shoulder in a warehouse of death by a poacher intent on ending you, see how well you cope with green England after that."

"Sherlock, you have feelings for him!" Greg chuckled at the outburst.

"Oh I should have seen it." Mycroft added. "Man of strong morals, brave, almost military, nice smile, confident and obsessed with animals."

"Arse you could bounce pennies off." Greg added. Sherlock snorted. He'd noticed of course. 

"Awkward to Mary's considerable womanly assets." Mycroft added. Sherlock accidentally hummed acquiescence to that.

"Accepting of Gay animals." Greg added.

"Gay himself-" Mycroft agreed.

"What? Gay? You sure?" Sherlock perked up.

"The great deduction abilities of Sherlock Holmes could not tell you he liked boys? My gaydar was pinging the second I shook his hand." Greg laughed.

"His lovely warm calloused workers hand.." Mycroft teased Sherlock.

"You two are most amusing. Perhaps you should go to Vaudeville together." Sherlock huffed.

"Sherlock....DO you like John?" Mycroft asked, teasing tone replaced with genuine curiosity. Sherlock paused. It had been years since he had had to lie to Mycroft. 

"I do. I like him. A lot."

"Oh thank fuck, about time." Greg sighed. He noticed six eyes on him. "Did I say that out loud?"

Sherlock and Mycroft nodded. Beth flicked her tongue. Greg unrepentantly grinned.

"Well it is!" he insisted. "I seriously thought your dick had atrophied."

"John must be truly remarkable to perk our Sherlock up." Mycroft commented.

"You both suck. I am not DEAD, just had...other priorities." Sherlock indicated Beth. He left unsaid that the only relationships he had had were the men he did for money to get cocaine. That stunted his belief in love and marriage, let alone dating.

"I say go for it." Greg, the romantic, said. "He might need a nice cuddle, same as you do Sherlock."

"God, you're hopeless." Sherlock smiled at Greg. "How does one go about wooing someone as damaged as John Watson?"

"Same as wooing anyone." Greg said.

"I have never wooed. I am wooless." Sherlock sighed helplessly.

"Well, I know you are not a virgin." Greg said.

"And you know that how, Gregory?" Mycroft cocked an eyebrow at his boyfriend.

"Well...look at him, he's so damn pretty!"

"He is, indeed. He also just told you he has never wooed."

"Wooing and fucking are two different things Myc."

"Don't I know it." Sherlock sighed. He lifted his legs and head off his human pillows and stood gracefully. "I am off to bed. Goodnight."

"Sherlock?" Greg said, aware he had touched upon a sore subject. "John would be mad to say no to you."

"Yes, well, we have just spent most of this evening speaking about the delicate state of Johns mind." Sherlock said, and slipped out the door, Beth his scarf.

Greg sighed, then turned to Mycroft.

"Spill."

"These are not my secrets to tell Gregory."

Greg slitted his beautiful brown eyes.

"Spill, Mycroft, or I will tickle you till a little bit of wee comes out."

Mycroft looked shocked, but quickly began to speak.

"It was when he was addicted to cocaine..."

#

John curled on the cot in the petting zoo, unable to face spending the night in his cottage, needing to be near his charges. The soft sounds of ruminants chewing, the farting and belching, the rustle of hay, the occasional soft sound from his hedgys, calmed Johns mind. 

And did it need calming.

A day, he had been here. A fucking day and already he had had to kill a beautiful living creature. He signed again, floofing his pillow.

Visions of Sherlock in Johns coat, the very one he was using as a blanket now, came unbidden to Johns mind, making him smile. He was stunning. Cute. Caring...

What in the hell would he want from a short, dirty blond, fucked-in-the-head damaged zoo vet like him? An exquisite man like him probably already had a GQ boyfriend, probably....James fucking Bond or someone, or worse, a lingeré model girlfriend with perfect boobs and luscious lips.

John moaned at his pathetic self, and turned to face his hedgys, curled together and chirping love sounds at each other.

"You guys are the lucky ones." he sighed. "Not that I begrudge you. No. I am envious..." 

Who was he fooling, he was jealous. Jealous of a couple of hedgehogs.

"I could do it...I am John Of Thailand. I saved some rhinos you know. I am a big damn hero."

A hero sure, but Sherlock was....

Beautiful. Sigh.

Johns dreams that night had tusks in them, and not in a good way.

#


	7. SEVEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John meets some other animals and there is a surprise in the snake hoose. Also, Mary happens :(

CHAPTER SEVEN

The zoo was not open on Sunday to give the keepers and gardeners time to tidy and tweak any problems with the grounds, the enclosures and the animals. 

John was up early, showered and dealing with his animals before the sun rose. It was a crisp morning so he indulged himself by wrapping himself in the puffy jacket he had lent to Sherlock the day before. It was a tiny thrill for him. But by the time the sun was up and the bedding changed, animals fed and watered and cuddled and checked over, he was quite warm. He removed the jacket reluctantly and laughed at his sentimental self.

He let the goats, sheep and alpacas out into the paddock to roam and nom on the grass. He tried not to notice how the two remaining goats kept bleating and looking about. Goats could not count but they knew someone was missing.

He spent quite a bit of time with Tracey and Ben the alpacas, chatting to them, stroking their lovely warm fur, telling them stories. He also let them know that it was okay if they did not breed, he loved them just the same. He could tell they were fond of each other, however, and really, in life, that was enough.

He dragged the guinea pigs and rabbit runs out onto the grass too, to let them have some sun and grass time. His hedgys joined the crew too, and he spent quite some time tickling them and chatting to them too. It was kind of a shame to put them back inside.

Later in the morning John went to visit the other enclosures. He was impressed with Anderson's wild birds, enraptured with Stamford's sea lions, and adored Irene's hyenas. He had heard that hyenas could be domesticated, like dogs, and Irene had proved it with her animals. They were like puppies, coming when he called, and he spent some minutes telling them how adorable they were, with their soft velvet muzzles and happy grinning faces. Irene's assistant keeper Kate was looking out for them today as Irene was in London, and he introduced himself. They chatted for a while, commiserated on Zelda's passing, and talked of Jack and Ianto.

Then John moved on to Molly's meerkats. They were out in their sandy concrete walled enclosure, Molly moving amongst them, laughing at the tiny little things. Earlier she had hidden grubs and crickets and berries in the cracks of logs and under the ground, and other places the little darlings could have fun hunting for their food.

"Hi John, want to come in?" Molly smiled and waved to him.

"Oh God, yes." John said, and climbed over the wall and into the enclosure. Molly sat in the dirt and crossed her legs, so John joined her, sitting in comfortable silence, watching the antics of these adorable little animals.

"Is that one....sitting on the other ones head?" he asked suddenly. One of the bigger meerkats had squashed a smaller one into a hollow and was actually stopping him from getting up.

"They are brothers." Molly said. "They do this all the time."

"From the same litter?"

"Yeah. The little one is the runt. The bigger one is always repressing him. Sometimes though, the little one gets a good nip in."

John chuckled, then felt enquiring whiskers on the back of one of his hands. Looking down he saw a bigger 'Kat sniffing him.

"That's Dapple. She is the matriarch, checking you out. If you sit very still....OH!"

Dapple had skittered into Johns lap, sitting up and sniffing him, almost eye to eye. John smiled.

"She's beautiful." he sighed, eyes soft.

"She....doesn't do this John. You must be a wizard!"

"Oh Molly she is so precious, look at her." John whispered, face gone enraptured at the little being chittering on his lap. Dapple approved of John so much she slithered up his chest and around his neck, using him as a vantage point to view her domain. Molly was speechless.

"I have been with this clan for eight years and I have NEVER seen a 'Kat do that, not even with me." she said, eyes wide open. "I am a little envious, but I already knew you were amazing."

"Not me, her. Look at her Mols, you are so lucky to be here with them every day." John said, lifting his fingers gently for Dapple to sniff. She spared a second to do so, then chattered at the brothers who broke apart innocently and went to search out grubs.

"I consider myself the luckiest girl in the world." Molly said.

"You are a pretty one my lovely." John said, and Molly's heart leaped in her chest until she realised John was talking to Dapple. Dapple preened of course. Molly would have preened too if John had said that to her....

John spent ten more minutes with Dapple and Molly before Dapple clambered off John and went to get her own tucker. John thanked Molly with a kiss to her cheek, and departed to see Jim and his white tiger.

Sebastian was a magnificent beast. John told Jim so and Jim agreed.

"I call him my kitten." Jim said, Irish lilt filled with pride as he stood outside the fence with John. Sebastian was on his back, paws in the air, sleeping like an overgrown tabby. His belly fluff moved in the slight breeze and Jim chuckled. "Look at him, the daft bastard."

"He seems content to lie there." John said.

"That's what tigers do." Jim said, then winced a bit, holding his hand to his chest.

"You okay mate?"

"Reflux." Jim said. "My stomach acids are trying to burn the heart out of me." 

"Stress?"

"Oh aye. Sebastian had a cyst removed two weeks ago. Hudson was not sure if it was cancerous."

"God, I'm sorry mate."

"All good, he's fine. I think he needs a mate though."

The quiet was broken by the strains of Stayin' Alive. It was Jims phone.

"Sorry, do you mind of I get this?" Jim asked, and John waved his hand in dismissal.

"Go ahead, I am going to check out the snakes."

Jim nodded and answered his phone with a happy "Irene, how is London this lovely morning...?"

John left and made his way to the dark heat of the snake house. It was quiet, and the lights from the enclosures made an eerie gloom. John loved it. It was perfect for reptiles. Sherlocks assistant Wilkes was in with the water dragons, hosing out their pond. John waved and Wilkes pointed down the path, mouthing "Shhhhhh." and smiling. John smiled confusedly at Wilkes, but followed the assistants pointing finger.

Around the corner was Sherlock, standing all bendy, with one arm over his stomach, his other up to his mouth in a thinking stance. He was staring into the clear window of an enclosure and the light made him look ethereal. It took a minute for John to realise there were tears on Sherlocks face.

"Sherlock?" he asked, coming to stand next to the lanky keeper.

"John....she had her eggs." Sherlock choked happily.

"Oh!" John said, and followed Sherlocks intense gaze. There was Beth, curled protectively around a small clutch of eggs. "Oh Sherlock, congratulations. How many?"

"I calculate about twenty."

"Oh that's small. Perfect for her first clutch."

"Agreed." Sherlock nodded, absently wiping his face.

"You stayed with her?"

"Is this the face of a well rested man?" Sherlock crooked a half smile, turning to face John. The bandana Sherlock usually had around his head was around his neck and his usually dirty tear-streaked face was framed nicely with those inky curls of his. John thought yeah, he looks tired, but it is the face of a beautiful man...well rested or not.

"I am well pleased mate." John said, and was rewarded with a wonderful full-faced smile.

"She is a wonder, my Beth." Sherlock said, and turned back to admiring his snake through the window.

"She is indeed." John agreed, and tentatively put his hand on Sherlocks shoulder. He was rewarded with Sherlocks warm, long fingered hand being placed on top of his. They stood like this for a while, watching Beth do nothing and yet both entranced. Beth was bringing new life into the world. Tiny pythons. It was thrilling.

John left Sherlock smiling but came back later with a cup of tea and a bagel.

"I suspect the proud grannie has neglected to eat." he quipped.

"Did you just call me a grandmother?" Sherlock asked, devouring the bagel.

"I did." John grinned, bracing himself for a verbal blasting. Instead Sherlock grinned.

"I like it. I AM these babies grannie, gender roles not withstanding."

John laughed happily. Goddess, Sherlock was too cute. What harm could come with flirting with him, at least until he got the lie of the land with regards Sherlocks sexuality, availability, and willingness?

The rest of the week flew by. John did his chores, dealt with the public, made sure Sherlock ate, and even had the joy of flying an eagle from his arm and finally harnessing and walking his alpacas. Life was good.

Friday night Forages arrived and by then John was well and truly a part of the Baker Zoo family. He ate with them, joked with them, hashed through the joys and difficulties of the various animals, and tried hard not to flirt too outrageously with Sherlock. It was almost impossible, but Sherlock had his pythons to concentrate on and John did not want to distract him.

However, coming back from a trip to the loo, Mary cornered him. She had put her hair up, refreshed her lipstick and had worn her best push up bra. In fact, she had done this every day for the past week and John had not given her one jot of attention. What was it with all these people and their weird obsessions with stinky animals?

But she had noticed the cups of tea and bagels John had made for Sherlock, oh yes she had.

"Mary, had a good week?" John asked, making to push past her. She gently laid a well manicured hand on Johns arm, affectively stopping him in his tracks.

"John....please. I need to tell you something. About Sherlock." she said, making her face frown prettily and biting her lip fetchingly.

"Mary, please-" John said, still smiling but making to take her hand off his arm.

"John, Mycroft has not told you the truth, at least about his little brother."

"I am not interested in gossip Mary." John said, still keeping his voice civil.

"It's not gossip John. Please...."

John sighed.

"Tell me then." he said, his politeness overcoming any reluctance he may have had.

"Sherlock was addicted to drugs." she said.

"I already knew that." John said. "I don't think-"

"He sold his body for it." Mary quickly added. She had not read all the personnel files for nothing, even the ones the great Mycroft Holmes kept in his personal computer.

John paused, then looked down at Mary. She looked up at him, a combination of concern and sorry planted carefully on her face.

"He prostituted himself, is that what you are telling me?" he asked, and Mary nodded. Oh yes. She had got him. Distracted him from the pretty boy snake charmer who, she surmised, was the only thing between herself and married bliss with John.

"Yes. I am sorry to have to tell you. Sherlock is not as perfect as Mycroft would have you believe." Mary said, voice carefully modulated to be soft and breathy and oh-so-sorry.

Johns face went blank. 

"Mary...." John barely disguised his distaste as he peeled Mary's claws from his skin. "If you EVER talk to me again I will slap you. Across the face. Open hand." Mary shrank back. Fluffy John had turned I to something animalistic and terrifying.

"But John-"

"The man you are trying to undermine is the same man who gave up his habit in a heartbeat to save a malnourished python." John hissed through teeth clamped with anger. "He gave up an addiction for one small snake that may not have even lived another day. And, just this week, stayed up all night with that python as she laid her first clutch of eggs, so forgive me Mary if I say fuck you, you dirty rumour spreading bitch and your festering maggot filled mind. Good night."

And he stalked off, leaving Mary gasping against the wall, realising she had underestimated John Watson to a dangerous degree. It only made him more exciting and she needed him. Needed to own him, this thrilling dangerous nugget of a man!

So, when the humiliation wore off revenge was on her mind. All she had to do was make Sherlock the bad guy and herself the angel saviour.

#


	8. EIGHT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnlock, smut, and a very pissed off Mary!

CHAPTER EIGHT

Sherlock knocked on Johns cottage door. He had noted that John had left Forages very quickly with a flat look on his face, not catching anyone's eye. Not three minutes later a flushed looking Mary appeared and Sherlock would have to have been a pretty piss poor detective not to put two and two together.

John opened the door. His face was impassive, but it looked as of he was barely holding himself together. There was anger like lava beneath the surface.

"Hey Sherlock." he said. 

"John." Sherlock nodded.

"Beth okay?" he asked, frowning.

"She's fine. Are you?" Sherlock asked, left stood like a numpty as John paused, door still in his hand.

John debated what to say. He knew Sherlock was not a fool. He also knew that what Mary had said MAY have been true and perhaps he had been looking at Sherlock with rose coloured glasses. People constantly let him down. But nothing the man had done caused him any distress and the things Mary said had happened years ago. At least five, judging by the length of Beth, even stunned as she was.

"I...have been better." he finally said. "Would you like to come in?"

"Yes." Sherlock said, and John stood aside, allowing Sherlock to pass.

"Tea?"

"No." Sherlock said, and floofed into Johns comfy sofa. "What happened?"

"Um..." John said, at a loss. No Englishman refused tea offered freely. He paused, then sat next to Sherlock on the couch.

Sherlock looked comfortable, as of he belonged here. He could look like that anywhere really. But for once his bandana was off and his uniform and face were clean. He had not done any hard work for a while, leaving it to Wilkes, who did not mind. Sherlock had to see to Beth, it was his number one priority, and all the snake house underlings knew that. So Sherlock remained clean.

"It was Mary wasn't it." Sherlock stated, and John nodded.

"She's been pursuing me." John said, twisting his fingers uncomfortably. "She's a nice girl but she is...full on."

"She is getting pressure to marry and breed.' Sherlock said. "Her mother..." he waved a hand in a circular motion.

"Not my department." John said. "I am definitely not the marrying kind."

"Have you tried telling her no?"

John blushed. 

"People confuse me." he said. "Irritate and flummox me."

"And you were flattered?"

"Ah, yeah, no." John said, shaking his head and looking away. "No."

"John....what did she say?"

"It was about you."

"Ah." Sherlock raised his eyebrows. 

"She told me you had done cocaine."

"Which you already knew. Why did that upset you?" 

"To be fair, I had no idea it was cocaine. But yes, I knew you had been a drug addict."

"And...?"

"It upset me that she tried to get me to hate you because of....what she said you had done for the drugs."

"Ohhhh...." Sherlock said, drawing it out. "But she was right-"

John put up his hand, closing his eyes and swallowing.

"No." he shook his head, and then opened his eyes again. "I don't care if she is right. She made it seem as though I was supposed to redefine you by your past actions. Redefine you for the worst."

"People do that sometimes." Sherlock nodded.

"But all I am interested in is how you treat that snake. I know how hard it is to give up an addiction. I have seen it...my sister..." John sighed. "Sherlock, you gave it all up, all of it, the drugs and what you had to do to get them, for a tiny sickly snake with nobody else left to care for her. To me, THAT'S what defines your character. Self sacrifice for something I consider greater than a human life and I think you do too."

"I...well..thank you...." Sherlock found himself in the unusual position of being completely speechless. He just could not form words. But wow, did John put animals before humans to a possibly unhealthy degree. Sherlock was not sure that was a good thing or a bad thing, but it was a John thing and that was good enough for him.

"Does it concern you though, my rough past?" Sherlock finally thought of words.

"No." John said, and left it at that. "Now would you like tea?"

"John-" Sherlock pushed his hand forward and gripped Johns. "Do you like me?" he said then, desperately, before he lost his balls. He had to ask. He had to because John was simply awesome. Who looks at a mans past and makes no judgement? Nobody Sherlock had ever met, including his brother.

"Do I like you?" John repeated, frowning in confusion. "Of course. Have I given you the idea I didn't? If so, I am sorry."

"I am not asking to secure your praise John." Sherlock shuffled forward, closer, until his thigh was touching Johns. "I am asking if you....find me as fascinating as I find you. If your eyes seek me out sometimes like mine do yours. If seeing me turn a corner and come towards you can make your heart begin to pound stupidly in your chest. If the mere thought of me makes you smile like you have lost your damn mind. I want to know, John....if you LIKE me."

John swallowed nervously. Way to lay it all out on the table Sherlock.

"I...okay, say I do..." he said. "Will you...hurt me?" John put his un-held hand absently to his chest.

"I cannot see myself ever doing that." Sherlock answered. Not many people went into a relationship to emotionally cripple the other, and Sherlock most definitely did not want that for John.

"Will you understand that....with me, animals will always come first, before myself and even you sometimes." John went on.

"I already see and accept that in you."

John nodded, then he looked straight into Sherlocks eyes, gaze unwavering.

"Can I trust you?" he said, in a low but urgent voice. Sherlock took a second to process what John was asking.

"I gave up lying when I gave up cocaine, if that is the trust you mean." Sherlock said. "I would think myself very straight to the point, I will always answer any question you have, I will sometimes tell you what I have observed weather it is for your own good or not." he crooked a smile. "I will also take my damn time getting to know you because John Watson, I think you are worth any second I spend with you."

John choked a bit.

"I am fucked up. You may change your mind...."

"I am willing to take that chance. I would like you to as well. But I can see you are terrified. Is there anything I can do to make this easy on you, or does the terror work for you?"

John paused, thinking. He was actually better at working with his heart and feelings calm, not terrified. But right now he was as scared as anyone facing the unknown, maybe more scared because people were always such a disappointment and he did not want Sherlock to be lumped in with all the other humans.

"I am terrified..." he finally admitted in a whisper. Sherlock lifted one hand to Johns face. Stubble scratched his palm but Johns skin was warm. 

"John..." he said softly and lent forward, his face inches from Johns. "John..." 

And he kissed him.

#

Mary saw all. 

She could not hear the conversation through the shoulder high window at the side of Johns cottage but she could see that slimy bastard Sherlock worming his way across the couch to crowd and dazzle and confuse her John.

And she did not like it.

Then that kiss. She saw red. It took all her self control not to pick up an ornamental gnome and smash it through the window.

She turned away and slid into the darkness, heading for Sherlocks cottage.

An idea was forming in her head...Sherlock would pay for this!

#

John pulled away from Sherlocks lips, eyes wide, a bit breathless. 

"Uh...so...you LIKE me like me then." he quipped, heart pounding in his throat. The kiss had been sweet, and that was all well and good, but Johns whole high-strung body was crying out for more, deeper, wetter, tongy-er!

"I do like you John. For me, it's been so long."

"I have wanted you, this, for a while, but I figured you had your python...." John paused as a hungry look came into Sherlocks eyes.

"I would never neglect Beth." Sherlock said, reaching for Johns hand and shoving it between his legs. John could feel the snake keepers hard cock straining at his zooniform trousers. "But this python feels neglected, sexual pun intended."

John at once looked shocked, aroused, and disbelieving all at once.

"I cannot believe you said..." he choked, but did not move his hand. In fact, he rubbed the outline shape of Sherlocks cock a bit with his thumb. Sherlock made a tiny moany sound but did not take his eyes off Johns.

"I know, I can't believe I likened my penis to a python either, but damn...." he whispered, low in his throat. "I got you to touch it."

"Like this?" John smiled, and rubbed a bit firmer. Sherlock rumbled in a pleased way and kind of squirmed.

"Kiss me John, please...."

John could not resist him. He pressed his mouth against Sherlocks and kissed him deeply, tongue sliding on Sherlocks, hand still pressing and rubbing between Sherlocks thighs. Sherlocks moan inspired him, and he got rougher, with both his mouth and his hand. Sherlock responded deliciously to his touch. Kissing John, him being here and touching him intimately, felt so different to anyone he had been with before. It both excited and scared him.

John, on the other hand, was thrilled. Sherlock was far hotter and more delicious than even his fantasies had provided. His lips were perfect, his tongue devine, his body responsive. John felt strong and in control, and he loved it!

He pressed Sherlock down onto the couch and Sherlock laid back willingly. They did not break their kiss even a little bit, not even when Johns body covered the taller man and Sherlocks hips rolled to get friction. John took hold of Sherlocks wrists and pinned them above Sherlocks head, making a luscious moan rumble from deep within the reptile keepers throat. Being held still like this, pinned under John, was so hot Sherlock could hardly think.

Then John broke from Sherlocks lovely mouth to nuzzle under his ear with hot kisses and bites to Sherlocks long white neck. He found a particularly responsive spot and bit it gently, using his mouth to completely white out Sherlocks vision. The poor man could just moan and gasp and writhe under John. Johns body was heavy on him, his hard cock teasing Sherlocks own hard member, his mouth wet on Sherlocks throat, his fingers clamped like steel around those strong smooth wrists. 

John lifted his head and smiled at the debauched man beneath him. Sherlock stared up at him, eyes blown with lust, skin enticingly pink, mouth kiss-swollen. John turned his smile to a smirk and dry rutted into Sherlocks hips. Sherlock gasped and arched, stretching his enticing neck as he rubbed his tortured cock on Johns.

"..please..." he whispered as he relaxed the arch, flopping back to the couch. John kept fucking against him, insistently but frustratingly slowly, in control.

"Mmm, please?" he asked, eyes twinkling. Sherlock knew then, he was lost. He was Johns.

"Please...John...."

"Tell me..."

"...John..."

"Tell me."

"Fuck...John, please...."

"Let me know everything." 

"God, Christ, John please!" Sherlocks begging got husky, and he desperately tried to kiss John, use his tongue on him, touch him, anything, but he was helplessly pinned. John lent forward to slide his cheek against Sherlocks and put his lips right next to Sherlocks ear.

"What is it Sherlock, what do you need?" he whispered softly, making Sherlock shiver all over. 

"Oh God...." he moaned. "John...you, please..."

"Mmm? Me Sherlock?" John whispered again, still dry humping the keeper mercilessly slowly.

"John, please..." Sherlock begged, eyes fluttering closed.

"Please....?" John whispered.

Sherlock practically sobbed.

"Ohhhhhhh John, fuck me!"

John chuckled, then kissed Sherlocks thumping pulse.

"Maybe....." he promised, and took Sherlocks lips in his again.

#


	9. NINE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh YE Gods, Sherlock attacked Jim and let Sebastian out!!!

CHAPTER NINE.

The next day started sunny for John. He had managed to reduce Sherlock to a begging sobbing mess the night before, until he had finally taken the reptile keepers wet cock into his mouth and sucked him teasingly until the poor man could do nothing but come, screaming Johns name and whiting out for a while.

They had spent the next hour snogging and chatting, and Sherlock had been playing with Johns cock until John had suddenly gasped and come in his pants like a teenager. It felt incredible. And dirty.

Sherlock had eventually but reluctantly left to be with Beth and her clutch, leaving John to shower and sleep like the dead.

After his morning chores, John harnessed his alpacas and took them for a quick roam before the zoo opened. He made a point of visiting the serpent house and snogged Sherlock for a while, until Tracy gobbed on Sherlocks hair.

"Damn, wish I had worn my bandana!" Sherlock laughed, and washed the alpaca love juice from his hair under a tap. John thought he looked gorgeous, dripping wet, and he was quite distracted for some time by the joy that was Sherlocks hot mouth against his. 

Later that day John was asked to check over Sebastian as Hudson was out checking on a new baby giraffe that had come from Whipsnade for Dimocks giraffe house. Jim was not happy for Sebastian to be tranked or sedated in any way, since he had been fiddled with too much during the whole cyst thing, so the little Irish man held and stroked Sebbys head as John looked the big white cat over.

John had once done a health check on a lion so he had actually had a big cat under his hands before. Mind you, although the the lion had been much bigger than Sebby, he had been way under anaesthetic during the process. However John confidently pressed the stethoscope to Sebastian's rib cage because he was honoured to rove a caring eye over an animal as beautiful as this glossy, well fed, bright eyed cat.

John smiled and winked at Jim who blushed a bit. This new zoo vet was quite adorable, everyone said so, and being under his strong gaze was quite awesome. Jim was quite in love with Irene the Hyena keeper of course, and she with him, but it was still nice to be winked at by cute boys.

"Sebastian is perfect." John announced, after the check up. The cyst had healed beautifully, hardly even discoloured the fur around it, and all the big cats heart, breathing, ear and eye checks were clear. 

"He's my little guy." Jim said, scuffing the tigers mane. Sebastian huffed his meaty breath and curled his tongue from his mouth as he lifted his head to touch his nose to Jims. 

"Did you hand rear him?" John asked.

"Sure did, from three days old. His twin brother died before we could get this little guy out though." Jim said, eyes on his cat but speaking to John. "He's a sweetheart. Will do anything if you have a rose in your hand."

"A rose? Seriously?" 

"Uh huh. When he was a tiny cub I had him in a sling that smelled of rose because I heard that helped keep baby cats calm." Jim said. "I have no idea if it works across the board for all big cats or not, I only know it worked on Sebby."

"That's why there are rose bushes in front of his cage?"

"Uh huh. I think he likes to look at them too, the big kitten." Jim said, and kissed Sebby on the nose. Sebastian sneezed and then, to Jims and Johns surprise, the pretty snow coloured cat began to groom one of Johns forearms with his big rough tongue.

"Oh..." John said, freezing still. "Oh....wow!"

"Jaysus John...." Jim breathed. "Are you a whisperer?"

"No idea." John said quietly, simply awed at the love this animal was showing him. 

"No, he's not done that before....with anyone!" Jim said. "He's still a wild animal, for all he's been around humans..."

"He's wonderful..." John sighed. "He's just wonderful..."

"Molly told me you were a wizard. I am afraid I believe her." Jim said, and laughed at Johns face. "You won't be falling for my cat now Watson. I'll get jealous."

"Oh, no, Jim...he's yours, you can tell..." John said quickly, as Sebastian grew bored of licking John and heaved himself off the examination table. Jim and John stood back, and Sebastian slinked outside gracefully, huge paws padding softly on the mulch. John looked down at his arm. All the hairs were in a straight line and he giggled like a girl.

"John, don't underestimate your whisper powers." Jim said, in all seriousness, his eyes dark on John.

"Oh, um...well..." John smiled, not sure if telling Jim he was full of blarney would do any good for English/Irish relations.

"Call it what you will, John, but you have the gift." Jim said in all seriousness. John smiled. 

"I just love animals Jim." he said. "I really do."

#

It was late that afternoon, just after closing time, that all hell broke loose in the zoo.

The first John knew was he got a "code zebra" through the walkie talkie at his hip. Code zebra meant an animal had escaped. He wondered casually if the monkeys had finally George-of-the-Jungled over their fence when a horrified voice said.

"It's Sebastian, over!"

"Where's Jim?"

"Cannot see him, over!"

"Get the tranc gun Greg."

John grabbed the walkie talkie, pressed the button and yelled:

"Don't tranc him! I can get him!"

"John, is that you?" came Lestrades voice as John began to run.

"Greg, don't tranc Sebasian. He's had too much, his heart may not survive it!" John called desperately, puffing as he picked up speed and leaped over shrubs that lined paths, crossing the zoo as quickly as he could to get to the Lion House.

"John, he's out in the zoo, it's policy to tranc on sight." Gregs voice crackled through.

"Greg, promise me you won't. I can get him in his cage!"

"John, I have heard you were good, but Sebastian is eleven foot long and weighs 112 kilos!

"Roses!" John screamed at him.

"Just saw Sebastian, he's not far from his cage." Mike Stamford's voice came though

"Any sign of Jim?"

"No, can't see him"

"He's not gone home, but Reilly has." came Greg's voice and then. Reilly was the red haired Tiger Assistant keeper. Then, over the chatter, John heard Mycroft.

"Doctor Watson, you have one chance. After that, Gregory will tranc him." the owner said, calm as you like.

"I'll only need the one." John shot back, and clipped the walkie talkie to his belt as he drew up with a skid in front of the tiger enclosure. A quick scan saw the cage door open, but no sign of either Jim or Sebastian.

John spun on his foot, scanning for the tiger. He saw Greg running down the hill, tranc gun in his hand and knew he only had a matter of minutes, maybe seconds, to act.

He grabbed the closest rose bush and yanked a bloom from its roots, ignoring the thorns as they dug into his palms, and quickly turned to make his way around the cage, heading towards the seal enclosure. Stamford had said he had seen Sebastian, so that's where John headed, hoping he would not be too late to keep the tiger from being put into danger. Oddly, he was not thinking of the people the tiger could attack...

"Sebby....Sebastian...." he called, feeling only a tiny bit stupid using a kitten voice on a tiger, but he was desperate. He could not even stand to think of Sebastian in any danger, even from keepers who had his best interest at heart. "Sebastian come on mate..."

A huff in the bushes announced the presence of Sebastian. John scanned the brush but could see nothing.

"Sebastian? Sweetheart? Come on out, it's me, John." John said quietly, focussing on finding the tiger now, all outside influences gone. His ears blocked out surrounding sounds and all he was listening for was the snowy tiger in the trees.

And suddenly, he was there. Sebastian. Padding out to meet John, shoulder blades humping slinkily under his glossy fur. He was huffing and John knew that was hello in tiger talk. Sebastian unhesitatingly went straight up to John, pushed his forehead to to the mans chest and rumbled. John smiled in relief and scriffled the giant cat behind the ear, allowing him to sniff the rose in his hand. 

"Come on mate, let's get you home." John murmered to his humongous kitten friend, and they began to walk, calmly, back along the path to Sebastian's enclosure. John was aware of others peripherally but he had all his senses trained to every nuance of Sebastain. The tiger was happy to pad softly along next to John, who put a comforting hand on the tigers back. Sebastian huffed again, and panted, tasting the air but showing no signs of distress, much to Johns relief.

He could not hear the gasps of shock, horror, surprise and awe, could not see the careful bead Greg drew on the tigers flank, did not care.

The gate to the enclosure soon appeared and John walked the cat in, calmly, softly praising him, patting his shoulders. Sebastian automatically went into his half cleaned den and, once he was settled, John slid the closed, keeping the cat contained until he could be looked over to see if he had been injured in his adventure.

Then he turned to look for Jim. Something was obviously wrong, because no way would Jim have let his precious tiger out into the zoo, let alone leaving his den half cleaned.

"All good John?" Greg called, lowering the gun. John waved and the crowd of keepers that had gathered breathed a collective sigh of relief.

"Can't see Jim. Hudson here? I think Sebastian may have cut his paw." John said, not looking at the keepers, scanning the ground for clues as to where Jim was.

"She's on her way." Greg said. 

A golf cart screeched to a stop and Mycroft alighted. 

"Sebastian?"

"In his den." Greg said, nodding to the enclosure.

"How...?"

"John led him in, like a dog on a lead!" Molly squeaked excitedly.

"And James?" Mycroft asked then. Nobody noticed him grasp Gregs hand and hold tight. Everyone had their eyes on John.

"John is looking for him now." Mike Stamford offered. 

John by then had come across the tiger keeper.

"Found him, it's not good!" he called back, running to Jims side. The tiger keeper was laid out in the dirt, unresponsive to Johns voice, with blood leaking from a frightening gash in the back of his head. 

Mycroft told everyone to wait outside and hurried through the open gate to Johns voice.

John was cradling the bloody head of Jim in his lap. Next to him was a blood splattered lump of wood. A rock had been overturned at his feet but there was no other sign of a struggle.

And loosely clutched in his hand was Sherlocks bandana.

#


	10. TEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is found in a drugged out state, and Mary creeps John out.

CHAPTER TEN

"Shit fuck bollocks!" John swore, removing his puffy jacket and gently putting Jims head on it. Sliding carefully out he stood and faced Mycroft, who was bringing his 'phone out from his suit pocket while yelling to Greg over his shoulder.

"Call Reilly, get her here, and hurry Hudson up please Gregory!" he ordered, and Greg was on his own 'phone instantly.

"Where's Sherlock?" John demanded. He had not seen the inky-haired keeper in this whole debacle, had not heard his voice over the chatter.

"I've not seen him, he will probably still be with Beth-" Mycroft began, calling 999. It was as he was putting the phone to his ear that he saw the bandana. He looked straight at John.

"Find him." he said, and that was all the encouragement John needed. He took off running, pushing past the gathered keepers, hot footing it to the reptile house.

"Sherlock!" he yelled, skidding to a halt and trying to catch his breath. He walked into the darkness of the enclosure. "Sherlock?"

He saw Beth first, curled happily round her clutch. She appeared perfectly content.

The body passed out in front of the window was in direct opposite of that.

"Sherlock!" John cried out, falling to his knees beside the unconscious keeper. The chair he usually sat at was over turned, as was a cup. Sherlocks arm was outstretched, as if reaching for it. John could not recall the last time he had brought Sherlock a tea, and it was never in this cup, always the Tardis blue one that still sat on the shelf behind him. It was Sherlocks favourite one.

Rolling the unresponsive body over John was forced to gasp in horror. One of Sherlocks arms was almost blue from a restrictive rubber hose tied around his bicep, cutting off its circulation. Just visible under his wild curly hair was the glint of a syringe.

"Sherlock...fuck, Sherlock!" John sobbed, too much infiltrating his senses too fast. He ripped the hose from the keepers arm, and heaved him up to sit against his chest. Sherlock moaned a bit as the circulation began in his arm again, but his bruised eyes did not open. His body was cold against John, cold and heavy and a dead weight. If he had not have moaned John would have feared he was dead.

"Sherlock, come on mate...." John whispered, pressing his fingers to Sherlocks neck. His pulse was fast but strong. Too fast. But he was alive. "Sherlock. Please!"

"Buggery fuck!" came a voice from Johns left. Lestrade strode up, Mycroft close behind.

"I have Molly and Irene looking after Jim, Dimock is at the front waiting for the ambulance, is Sherlock-" Mycroft stopped, and gasped. Greg held him as his knees almost gave way. As it was, he dropped his 'phone, and it bounced away.

"Myc..." Greg murmured, holding tight to his arm.

"Is he...?"

"Dead? No." John said. "Drugged."

"Fuck." Greg spat at the same time that Mycroft whispered "No!"

Sherlock took that time to moan again, and his eyes fluttered. Mycroft dropped in front of him and took Sherlocks face in his hands.

"Sherlock." he whispered, dragging his thumbs under Sherlocks eyes. "Sherlock, please..."

Sherlock groaned, throat working. His eyes rolled open but they were dilated and flitted around parts of Mycrofs face.

"Sorry...." he whispered huskily, his voice dry. "Myc..." and he passed out again.

"Damn you Sherlock, wake up!" Mycroft screamed, and John put his arm up to protect Sherlock from a blow that never came. Mycroft stood, straightened his suit jacket, composing his face. 

"Myc...?" Greg touched Mycrofts shoulder.

"Gregory, if you could be so kind to call for another ambulance for my brother. I am going to see to James." Mycroft said, and turned on his heel. His footsteps faded as he left the reptile house, leaving Greg staring after him.

"Greg, please, he did not do this..." John said pleadingly. Greg turned to face John, eyes terrified.

"John....the evidence..."

"What EVIDENCE?" John yelled.

"The bandana, it's Sherlocks...and he's here, off his guts..." Greg said. "John, it does not look good."

"He's been set up!" John insisted.

"John, please, I know he is gorgeous, but please, don't fall for-"

"WHERE IS HE???" came a screeching scream, and a red headed demon tore into the reptile house.

"Reilly, Sebastian is okay-" Greg began, but Reilly tore right past him.

"I heard about the bandana!" Reilly screamed, her face red and her hair streaming. She had only been five minutes away when Greg had called her. She had turned around the second she had hung up and had heard three different versions from various keepers before she had seen Jim for herself. 

She kicked Sherlock viciously in the thigh before Greg wrapped his arms around her and pulled her up off the ground.

"Steady on Kitty!" he told her, holding her tight as she struggled.

"He didn't do it!" John added, protecting Sherlocks head with his hands.

"He's a bloody bastard drug addict and he nearly killed Sebastian!!" Reilly screamed, still trying to kick Sherlock. "He tried to kill Jim! He's a bastard! You hear that Sherlock, you fucking prick!? You repel me....YOU REPEL ME!!"

Greg dragged Kitty Reilly away, still screaming and struggling, until John was left, shaking, holding Sherlock to him. He gave himself permission to cry then, and kissed Sherlocks hair.

"Please don't have done this Sherlock...please please please!" he begged, holding the keeper to him and rocking him gently until the paramedics turned up.

#

Mary watched from a bush beside the office. With all the lights on at the Tiger and Reptile house she got a great view of everything. The ambulances arriving, Jim being stretchered inside one, Sherlock struggling and yelling as he was put in another. Irene happily going with Jim, but John shaking his head and refusing to go with Sherlock. And that wild Kitty Reilly clutching onto Hudson and Mycroft. Mary could hear her undignified screeching from here. She smiled. This had worked out ever more perfectly than she could ever have planned.

She saw John put his hands to his face and scrub at his eyes. Then he waved off offers of help and began to make his way up to his cottage, just as the police arrived. 

Mary messed up her hair, grabbed her car keys, popped her anorak off her shoulder and began to run towards John.

"John! John!" she called. John stopped his ascent to his cottage and looked around. Mary caught up to him, puffing as if she had run a mile. "Are you okay?"

"Oh, yes, Mary. I am just going to see to my animals." John said. He looked awful. Tired and strained and drained. Perfect! But....was that why he didn't go with Sherlock, his animals? Or was he disgusted in Sherlock? She hoped it was the latter. That was her whole plan after all.

"Do you need anything?"

"To be alone thanks Mary." John said. Mary stopped him with a hand on his arm. John repressed the creepy feeling that crawled along his flesh. Or perhaps it was the cold? His jacket was still in Sebastian's enclosure as far as he knew.

"I am sorry Sherlock let you down." she said earnestly, setting off all sorts of alarms in Johns head. 

"oh..thanks.." John said, then turned from her and walked away. He had animals to feed and they would be hungry. He was late. He felt awful for that but worse for the ordeal he had just suffered.

Mary watched him go, irritated that he put animals before her. Animals, really? She had no idea that office work at a zoo would involve so many....ANIMALS. Seriously, they all stank and pooped and made stupid noises.

Well, one run at Mary would distract John, she was sure of it. What did any man want more than anything? A good bonk. A good wife. And babies, of course, someone to carry on the line.

Mary smiled and turned away. Plan A was well and truly underway.

#

John leaned against Ben the alpaca, and allowed himself a quick shuddering self indulgent cry. The alpaca did not mind, and John found his warm fluffy coat comforting, and his belch sounds relaxing. Christ on a Popsicle stick, all the evidence pointed to Sherlock! 

He thought back to that hot kiss this morning, and how cute Sherlock had looked after washing Tracey's gobs of love from his hair. All that dripping fringe and...

Wait....dripping fringe? He had not been wearing his bandanna, mentioned he could not find it...

Hope bloomed in Johns chest. If he didn't have his bandana then how had Jim ended up with it in his hand?

Answer...someone ELSE put it there.

Oh yes thank you Major Deities....Sherlock HAD been set up!

#


	11. ELEVEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mutiple Choice Question: If you were plotting nefarious schemes, who would you LEAST want after you? A: the police B: A vicious, blood thirsty assassin C: Both Holmes brothers and a wild John Watson. Mary lost any right to choice once she messed with the baby brother of Mycroft and the love of John Watsons life.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

John had finished up his zoo chores and was sitting at the cottage table tending his thorn wounds when the police knocked upon his door. They introduced themselves, and John invited them in.

They asked all the usual "where were you, what did you do then" questions and John made sure to tell them about the mysterious magic bandana. They took a good note of that, to Johns relief. 

"Do you know of anyone who would WANT to set Mister Holmes up to this degree?" one of the police asked. John shook his head.

"I have no idea, but I am new here. He is a good keeper and a good man." John said. He hid his tiny bit of guilt at doubting Sherlock even for a nano-second, squashed it down deep and ignored it.

"Not many people know of his past....." He trailed off because that's when he knew, for certain, who had done it.

His eyes shone with anger and he hid his face from the police, who were finishing up with the usual "We will be in touch" spiel. John saw them out nicely, wished them luck, asked them to drive carefully as it was wet out....

After the door was closed, Johns face blanked and he stood still. Slowly, his fists clenched. He ignored the slight sting of the thorn damage to his palms as the wave of anger and adrenaline washed over him like a cold wind.

Mary bloody Morstan had set Sherlock up and John could not, WOULD not, allow her to get away with it.

#

 

Later that night a cab pulled up in front of the zoo and a wobbly Sherlock got out. Mycroft, who had not gone home yet due to worry, paperwork, and a half empty bottle of good whiskey, looked up in surprise as Sherlock stumbled past the office.

"Sherlock!" the elder brother cried, rushing out of the office to intercept Sherlock. 

"Mycroft...Beth?" Sherlock asked in a dry rusty voice. 

"She's fine, Sherlock, you should still be in hospital." Mycroft gently held onto Sherlocks biceps and looked into his brothers face. He did not like what he saw there. Exhaustion, withdrawal and fear.

"Left. Need to be here."

"Beth is fine, Sherlock. She is just fine. I looked in on her myself."

"She needs me."

"I need you to rest." Mycroft shook his brother gently.

"I did not do this. I did not hurt Jim. I would never have put Sebastian at risk, let alone leave Beth without me." Sherlock said softly. He knew he had let Mycroft down a hundred times in a thousand little ways during his years of addiction but this new relationship was lovely, this trust and affection, and Sherlock needed to know Mycroft believed him. 

"Sherlock, I know." Mycroft said. "I really do. If anything happened to Beth you would die, and if it happened because you were remiss in your duty you would take your own life, I KNOW." 

Sherlock almost cried he was so relieved. 

"Thank you, My....thank you..." he fell against his big brother, who held him tight and soothingly patted his back.

"You need sleep Sherlock." he whispered, kissing the top of Sherlocks head and gently pushing him away.

"I will see to Beth first." Sherlock said, and headed for the door.

"Sherlock..who did this?"

"I cannot be sure Mycroft." Sherlock said, turning back at the door. "But I DO remember Mary Morstan bringing me a cup of tea." 

He left that hanging in the air as he staggered on wobbly legs out into the zoo.

#

Sherlock was so relieved that Beth was okay that he put his hands to his face and allowed himself a quick self-indulgent sob. Then he stroked the window.

"I am sorry I left you Beth." he told the snake, who flickered her tongue but did not move from her clutch of course. "It was unavoidable I am afraid."

"I won't forgive her for this."

Sherlock jumped and spun at the sudden voice. Out of the gloom stepped John Watson, arms crossed, face furious. 

"John, it wasn't me-"

"I know Sherlock. She set you up."

"Mary."

"I WILL slap her Sherlock. She comes near me again, and I will slap her..." Johns voice was rough with emotion, a hodge podge of anger and fear and worry. But seeing Sherlock here was both wonderful and worrying. His face softened and his arms uncrossed. "Are you okay love?"

Sherlock allowed a small gaspette to escape and crossed in two strides to John, sweeping him up in a strong hug.

"After Beth, you were all I was thinking of. I hoped...I hoped you would not think I had..."

"Seeing you passed out on front of her like that was awful, I thought you were dead." John whispered into Sherlocks chest.

"No, please, John, stop-" Sherlock had once found one of his dealers dead and blue in a warehouse. He would not wish that horror on anyone. Let alone someone he lov- erm, had strong positive feelings for.

"I was never so happy to hear someone moan in pain." John snorted.

"I'm so sorry." Sherlock told him, stepping back and holding gently to Johns shoulders, mindful of the tusk scar.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, nothing." johns eyes were shiny. "It was the fact that you were insensible in front of Beth that had me wondering, and then I remembered about the bandana."

"Bandana?"

"Your red bandana, the one you could not find this morning. Remember, washing the alpaca spit from your head? It was found in Jim's hand."

"Oh.....you clever little vet!!" Sherlock breathed, staring over Johns head at nothing, totally inside his own head. 

Sherlock lifted John up and twirled him, then took off running.

"Sherlock...?" John called.

"John, come on! The games afoot!"

John actually chuckled and then took off after Sherlocks wobbly beanpole gait, happy to see nothing seemed to be permanently wrong with Sherlocks brain.

#

Sherlock pushed under the crime scene tape and paused, fingers to his mouth. Then he began to stare at the ground from various angles. It looked to John as if he were dancing, whirling like a dervish. And he was talking to himself, muttering, his brow furrowed. The clothes he had "borrowed" from a nurses locker moved wrong as they were for a much shorter man, and John admired the fact he still seemed as graceful as a swan.

"See here John, this rock, it's tipped over. Someone stood on it to get the same leverage as someone my height."

"Say it. MARY did." John insisted.

Sherlocks eyelids fluttered, thinking.

"I calculate that somebody five foot six would have used this rock to make them near to my height. How tall are you John?"

"Erm...five foot six."

"And Mary?"

"Same."

"You have a muscular physique, all that hard work with your animals."

"I keep fit, yes."

"If you had hit Jim you would have killed him. Someone with much weaker arms would have just damaged him, as they did."

Sherlock stalked a bit.

"Once my blood work is done we will find out what she drugged my tea with. After that, we will have her."

"Sherlock...."

"Yes, John?"

"I don't want to leave her to the police."

Sherlock shivered. John looked deadly in the moonlight, eyes sharp and arms flexed. The same man who cried over a goat was now a rock hard deadly machine.

Sherlock could not help the thrum of delight in his veins. John wanted to protect and avenge him. Nobody but his brother had ever gone in to bat for him before and the fact it was someone whom he may actually have the very foreign love-feelings for was new and interesting and so delightful Sherlock found himself smiling coyly, under his fringe like a Southern Belle.

"John..." he said, and John was suddenly on him, hands under his hair and pulling him down for a hot, deep kiss. Sherlock moaned in the sudden heat that traversed his whole body. He kissed John back hungrily, tongue dancing.

"Nobody hurts what's mine." John growled and Sherlock felt himself relax and melt against Johns hot, hard, dependable body.

#

Sherlock received a 'phone call from Mycroft later that morning.

"Sherlock, do you have any explanation how the tranquillisers I keep locked here in my office would have got in your bloodstream?" he asked, knowing the answer already.

"I think we both know the answer to that." Sherlock answered.

Mary Morstan now had both Holmes' and a Watson onto her deadly scheme.

Poor darling never stood a chance.

#


	12. TWELVE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary Mary Mary, you foolish foolish child...

CHAPTER TWELVE

When Mary got to work the next day she spent some time in the bathroom, retouching her makeup. She had made a special effort to look nice, in a flowy red dress like a nice lady would have worn in the 50's and her hair up and elegant. John would not be able to resist! And with his heart broken he would need some lovely lady loving.

As she sat and started the computer she was surprised and delighted when John Watson appeared.

"Hello John, you are here early." she smiled, then frowned prettily. "Are you okay? How is Jim?"

"He was in a really bad way Mary." John said, trying hard to appear normal but seriously, how could she sit there like this, still throwing the bait out, after she had smashed a mans head in with a lump of wood?

"Oh, I am sorry to hear that." she said softly, parting her lips and blinking up at him.

"Sherlock was released though. Not enough evidence." John said carefully.

"Oh?" Mary's facade slipped minutely, then fell back. "Well, he will get what's coming to him. Imagine hurting Jim like that? I had heard drug addicts were vicious but to hurt lovely sweet Jim well, you have to wonder about the sort of damage inside Sherlocks head, don't you?"

John clenched his jaw. 

"Anyway Mary, I am here for some more betadine." he said, trying to keep his voice steady. He held out his hand, close enough for her to touch. She took the bait, held his hand, looked into his thorn-damaged palm.

"Oh, that looks nasty." she said. "How did you do that?"

"On some thorns. It was the only way to get Sebastian back in his cage."

"Oh, did they shoot the tiger John? Vicious creature, out of his cage!" Mary said, and that's when Johns self control crumbled. He gripped Mary's wrist and turned her hand over. And there, in three steady lines, were splinters.

"John, ow!" Mary said, and tried to pull her hand from him. John pulled back, making Mary stumble to her feet. "Let me go!" 

John pulled hard on her arm, dragging her around her desk to stand in front of him. Her face looked frightened but also flushed with excitement. John was so strong!

"Looks like you need betadine too. Those are nasty splinters." John hissed.

"John, you are scaring me..."

Johns voice choked him, so he just turned and dragged her behind him. She stumbled again, losing a shoe, but John did not stop his forceful tugging.

"John, what's going on?" she exclaimed, as John pushed open the door to Mycrofts office. He threw her into a chair and slammed the door closed, leaning his back against it to block her exit.

"What the hell!?" Mary cried, and then became aware of where she was. Then she saw who was there. She blinked around, and swallowed.

Mycroft sat across his desk from her, his face impassive. Behind him, standing like a soldier, was Lestrade. And sitting propped against the desk, arms crossed, was Sherlock. 

"Splinters." John spat, and it was all he could say. His anger was threatening to make him sick.

"I understand you have sustained an injury." Mycroft said, calmly.

"What is this about? Why is HE here? He should be in prison for what he did!" Mary cried, pointing at Sherlock. 

"Show me your palm, Miss Morstan." Mycroft went on, voice soft.

"it's nothing, I was gardening!"

"Show him your fucking hand!" John spat, crossing the room, snatching up her wrist and slamming her hand, palm up, on the desk in front of Mycroft.

"Ow, John!" Mary cried out, as Mycroft leaned forward to peer at the splinters displayed so thoughtfully by Johns solid grip.

"Where did you get these, Miss Morstan?" Mycroft asked, his voice still soft.

"Gardening!" Mary cried.

"Not wielding a sizeable chunk of wood at James' head?"

"What? NO!" Mary protested.

John held his other hand out to Lestrade, who passed a pair of tweezers to him. John not-so-carefully dug into Mary's palm.

"Ow ow ow, John, that hurts!" Mary struggled, but John refused to let her go. He slid a sizeable splinter out and Sherlock held out a clear bag. John put the splinter in and Sherlock handed the bag to Mycroft. John let Mary go as if she was poison and stalked back to lean against the door. Mary rubbed her wrist and tried to look innocent.

"Miss Morstan, I will send this to be analysed. If it is the same as the wood used to injure James you will be a person of interest in this case." Mycroft said, eyes catching hers. His were bright with anger, hers were tearing up in pain.

"Or you could just tell us now." Lestrade said. "Confess. It will go better for you if you do."

"Confess? To what?" Mary cried.

"Don't be obtuse Miss Morstan." Sherlock finally spoke.

"Don't you talk to me you filthy druggie!" Mary hissed at Sherlock, anger firing her up.

Sherlock shrugged with one shoulder.

"I have been called worse."

"You need to go to prison where you belong!"

Johns self control was slipping. He had never wanted to slap anyone as much as he wanted to slap Mary right now.

"Some might say the same about you, Miss Morstan." Mycroft said. 

"How can you say that? I would never do drugs, NEVER!"

John stepped forward and loomed over Mary, who shrank back. 

"No, but you would swing a lump of wood at a mans head and knock him unconscious without a second thought, wouldn't you, you arrogant witch!" he hissed into her flinching face. "And you would stand on a rock to make yourself seem taller, you would plant evidence, and you would blindly drug a man with animal tranquillisers, wouldn't you!!"

Mary's eyes widened. John was furious! 

" And so much worse than all that, you would gladly and with NO THOUGHT AT ALL put the lives of animals that trust us to look after them at risk of death. How could you Mary, what did they ever do to you?" 

"Really, John, the ANIMALS? Mary's faced finally crumbled. "The animals? What about Sherlock, you stupid man! He was the one I drugged, and all you can think of is that stupid fucking TIGER!!??"

Silence echoed as she realised what she had said. She clamped her splintered hand to her mouth and John crooked a smile at her in triumph.

"Got you, you fucking bitch." he whispered, and stood to smile triumphantly at Sherlock.

Mary erupted form her chair and wrapped both her hands around Johns throat.

"You stupid bastard! You would give me up for SHERLOCK???" she screeched, teeth pulled back and spittle flying from her mouth. 

John staggered back under her onslaught but he didn't defeat a whole warehouse of poachers by sitting passively by. With a move as quick as lightning, he tore Mary's hands from his throat, spun her round, and rammed one of her arms so far up her back the bones creaked. She screamed in pain and John threw her to the ground. Then, he put his Kevlar boot to the back of her neck

"Don't. Fucking. Move." he suggested and Mary stilled. Then she burst into tears.

"I hate you! I hate you all! I loved bashing in stupid Jims stupid head! And I did not care if those drugs killed Sherlock! John, I love you, I love you!!! Don't let them take me away!!! Pleeeeeeeeaaaaase!"

Then she fell to piteous sobbing. Nothing could make John move his foot though. He stared down at the pathetic woman with his face gone blank, he had so many emotions running through him. Oh. It all it would take would be one....strong....push...

Sherlock was suddenly beside him, arms around him, whispering in his ear.

"The police will be here soon John. Don't..." he paused. "Don't hurt her."

John slid his foot from the woman's shoulder. Her sobs got quieter. It she made no move to get up. Oh how he wanted to kick the living shit out of her. But he didn't, Sherlock was taking him to a seat, bidding he sit, but he didn't want to, he wanted to...

He wanted to scream and howl and punch something. Instead he turned to Sherlock and fell against him, pushing his head into Sherlocks neck. Sherlock held him close, humming, stroking his hair lightly.

"I'll meet the cop car." Lestrade offered, and left the office, back ramrod straight. He needed to leave because he, too, wanted to kick Mary.

Mycroft stood and crossed to Mary. He stared down at her pathetic figure. Then he looked up at Sherlock. The ice man crumbled.

"Miss Moratan..." he said, but he was looking at his baby brother. "Miss MORSTAN!" he said louder, and she sniffled, but looked up as he looked down at her. She visibly paled at what she saw there. "Who did you think you were trifling with, when you hurt my baby brother? I have seen some ridiculous acts in my lifetime but none as stupid as that. You, my dear lady, will never ever see the free side of a prison for the rest of your life."

And he turned from her, lest he, too, laid the boot in.

"Thank you Mycroft. For everything." Sherlock whispered. John lifted himself away from Sherlock and put his hand out to shake Mycrofts. Mycroft took Johns hand and tugged him in for a quick manly hug. John actually laughed, a sharp surprised sound of delight.

"Mycroft...could you look away for a quick second?" Sherlock asked then, and Mycroft did as he was bid.

Sherlock turned to Mary, snivelling on the floor. She shrank away from him as he pulled his foot back. But he did not kick her. He wanted to. But he did not.

"If even one of Beth's children die, even ONE...." he hissed, but left off any threat. The emotion was too big, too full. "Just pray..." was all he could say.

The comforting wail of a siren was heard and John took Sherlocks hand. Sherlock squeezed it.

"It's okay Sherlock." John told him. "Beth is a strong girl with good natural instincts." he said, thrilled that the snake was still uppermost in Sherlocks mind. How could he not delight in someone so dedicated? 

Sherlock nodded.

"John...thank you."

"Eh?"

"For believing in me."

"Oh...no problem Sherlock." John smiled at him. Sherlocks alien eyes were on him, filled with deep promises and John firissoned slightly. He was beautiful, this man.

"John...." he said, voice deep and quiet.

"Yes, Sherlock?"

The door was suddenly opened by Lestrade and three burly police entered the room.

Whatever it was that Sherlock was going to say was lost in the whirl of the official arrest of Mary Morstan and the removal of her from their lives.

#


	13. THIRTEEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dark, sexy discoveries.
> 
> (Yesterday was my birthday so I did not post, in case any of you were getting panicy!!)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Sherlock felt a bit dizzy so he leaned against the warm window of Beths enclosure. He figured it must be the left over effects of the tranquilliser Mary had doped him with. Or the fact he had not eaten in a while.

Behind him, John put down a cup of tea.

"Sherlock?" 

"Hey John."

"You okay?"

"Dizzy."

"Here love, tea." John guided Sherlock to his chair and sat him down. Sherlock gladly took the warm cup in his hands and sipped. John passed him a jammie Dodger too and Sherlock smiled greatfully up at him.

"I put a pinch of love in that tea. No trancs." John said.

"How are your animals?" Sherlock smiled.

"Well fed. Happy." John said. "I left John and Ianto cuddling in my room."

Sherlock smiled into his tea, eyes on his Beth.

"It's still weeks to go." John said, rubbing the back of Sherlocks neck.

"I know. I am mostly calm about it John, but...I wasn't here, because of...Mary."

"I don't think it will make any difference Sherlock, but yeah...I get it." John nodded, looking at the lovely snake curled up protectively around her eggs. His heart panged a bit with anxiety but he just had to hope it would turn out okay.

"Being your tea out. Let's go see Sebastian." was Johns suggestion. Get Sherlock out into the daylight. Stop him staring at his python, sexual pun not intended.

Sherlock followed John from the reptile house and down the path to Sebastians enclosure. The big white tiger was on his back, paws in the air, as was his favourite position in the daytime. John cast a look over his paws and saw that Hudson had treated the cut pad. It looked alright and certainly did not stop the big cat from enjoying his nap.

"I am so glad he's okay." Sherlock said, finishing the last of his tea and hanging the cup by his thigh. John merely nodded. 

"I am glad you're okay." he then said, quietly, but looking at Sebastian.

"John...Mary had a point about my past." Sherlock said.

"Sherlock don't." John insisted. "The only thing I care about is you, now. Well, abstractly your past helped shape who you are now, but I don't need to hear about it."

"Don't need, or don't want?"

"Both. Like I won't talk about Thailand, you don't talk about your time as an addict. Some things are beyond words." John said. "And I sometimes think the experience is lessened the more you speak about it."

"Not one for therapy then?"

"God save me from feelings and understanding." John snorted, only half joking. Then he turned to Sherlock. "Of course, if you EVER need to talk to me, about ANYTHING, I will listen. And not judge. And fuck me, I will not give you 'helpful' fucking suggestions." He used air quotes on the word Helpful.

Sherlock snorted out a laugh.

"Deal. And same." The reptile keeper said.

"Sherlock Holmes!" barked a voice then, and both men turned to see Irene Adler, the Hyena keeper and Jims girlfriend, storming towards them.

"Brace yourself." John murmured, and Irene stunned them both by hugging Sherlock to herself, then turning to hug a very surprised John.

"Thank you both so much. Jim is doing much better. And as for Sebby...." Irene turned and stared at the silly cat. "Thank you both for that too. Jim would not have survived the death of his cat."

"I really did nothing. I was mostly asleep. It was all John." Sherlock said.

"Thank you John."

"Any word on when Jim will be back? He must be missing Sebastian. Reilly said Sebby is a bit off his tucker." John said.

"Better not tell Jim that." Sherlock added and John nodded. Irene smiled. 

"She told me that too."

Kitty had been avoiding Sherlock all day. When he had questioned John on her behaviour, John explained what she had done on the reptile house the day before. Now, she was embarrassed at her hysterics and mortified at how quickly she had jumped to conclusions. Neither John nor Sherlock minded as she put all her energy into caring for the tiger.

"Too soon to ask when Jim will be back?" John asked Irene then.

"He's going to be in for at least another week. He is champing to get back though."

"Any permanent damage?"

Irene shook her head. "Not sure yet. The wound..." she paused. "It looks like he's been shot in the head. If Mary had hit him harder, he would be dead." her eyes glistened and both men murmured in sad agreement. Irene shook herself.

"Anyway, I just wanted to see you both and thank you." 

Irene kissed the boys on the cheek and hurried away to see to her puppies before going back to stay with Jim at the hospital.

"I cannot help feeling guilty, a bit." John said then. "Mary was after me. I could have just let her know I liked men, or that I was never going to marry her, or that she..."

"Made your skin crawl?" Sherlock offered.

"Yes. That."

"I know you will feel guilty no matter what I say, but who you chose to like was never any of her business." Sherlock said then. "And she was clearly deranged."

"True. Very true." John said. "I personally don't get what she saw in me. I mean, sure, I am cute..." he paused to smile cheekily at Sherlock who agreed with a grin. "But I am no catch."

"You are joking?" Sherlock questioned then.

"I am a scarred, ordinary, second-fiddle vet with a bordering-on-unhealthy obsession with animals and no great financial prospects." Joh sighed.

"You are a strong, handsome, dedicated man with eyes that could pierce the skin of a rhino, a sexy dominant and commanding personality, and a mouth I want on places of me I have never wanted a mouth before." Sherlock purred, dropping his voice low and eyes lower. John flushed with pleasure.

"Really?" he whispered, eyes turning hungry and catching Sherlocks with a flare of lust.

"Really."

"Sherlock...what would you like...with us?"

"In truth I am confused, I want things I have always wanted but have always thought that they did not exist, or that I was strange to want it." Sherlock said, turning slightly pink. John was not sure of it was with embarrassment or excitement. Bit of both, probably.

John stepped right up to Sherlock, crowding him back against the fence of Sebastian's enclosure. He gently pressed himself to Sherlocks taller form, and wrapped his fingers lightly around Sherlocks wrists, holding them at his sides. The cup dropped into the weeds but neither man noticed.

"Sherlock...tell me...what do you want?" he whispered, eyes roving all over Sherlocks face, his pretty mouth, his gorgeous cheekbones, his ethereal eyes. Sherlock swallowed slowly and dove in. He trusted John.

"I want you to take me." he said. "I want you to hurt me..."

"And....?" Johns voice made Sherlock shiver.

"And....I want to love it."

#

To both John and Sherlocks relief, Mycroft kept the Friday meeting short. 

That afternoon, pressed against the fence, and been eye opening to both John AND Sherlock. John had always been dominant in the relationships he had engaged in, sometimes to a fun degree, sometimes to a light degree. It had really blossomed in Uni but it had always been in him. 

Sherlock had always wanted someone to care for him, to catch him and make him feel safe. To be able to let go and trust that his partner would push him and hurt him, take from him more than he thought he could give and it still be okay.

The whole thing made both of them desperate to get to Johns cottage and try each other out!

But this Friday meeting was important.

Mycroft briefly explained about Mary, let the Keeprs process and ask a few questions, and then went on to make an announcement.

"A Mister Cho has invited us to a charity fund raiser at his house." He said. "He is a philanthropist whom I believe made his fortune in water filtration or some such. We are all invited so I will bring in locums for the night. It's black tie but I have spare suits for any man not able to get his hands on one, and a stipend for those who need a new one or a dress, for the ladies."

"Needless to say this could be a lot of money for he zoo." Greg went on after the slight buzz died down.

"When is it?" Anderson asked then.

"Next sat night." Mycroft told him.

"Gives me a week to brace myself for dressing like a penguin." 

"You WISH you would look that good." Stamford snorted. He had a few penguins in the sea lion enclosure and was known to adore them.

"You are merely jealous." Anderson sniffed.

Excited talking continued as Mycroft sat and the eating began.

"I can buy you a tux." Sherlock bent and whispered to John, holding his fingers under the table.

"What makes you think I don't have one you patronising git?" John whispered back, entwining his fingers in Sherlocks.

"Oh, John, I'm sorry!" Sherlock looked mortified. John winked.

"I look good in dark grey." he said.

"John...you are so confusing."

"I want to keep you on your toes." 

John slid his other hand up Sherlocks inner thigh and pinched the tender skin there. Sherlock jumped and almost knocked over his drink.

"Taxi!!!" Lestrade called, showing he may have had the same childhood roots as John. John snorted but Sherlock looked...flustered. His throat pulse was pounding and he licked his lips nervously.

"John...please, more of that." he whispered. Johns eyes went dark and he squeezed Sherlocks fingers.

"Oh God yes..." 

#


	14. FOURTEEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Filthy smut. HUZZAH !

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

"Look at the wall, Sherlock." 

John surveyed Sherlock closely in the low lamp light of his cosy cottage bedroom. Sherlock had arrived on time and had dressed as John had asked, in comfortable clothes. In this case it was a track suit of navy blue with a light blue T-shirt underneath. He stood with his hands behind his back, staring at the wall. He was not PERFECTLY still, he was trembling very slightly, but John expected this. Sherlock had waited his whole life for John, but only now did he realise it.

Sherlock swallowed slowly as John circled him. The tall keeper was recalling the few times he had received quick slaps in alleys from dealers impatient for him to finish and the rush of power they had over him making his cock hard but never satisfied. He also recalled the one time he had gone to a professional dungeon. That had been wonderful, the man had beat him and shoved his fingers in Sherlocks arse and made him beg for permission to come...it had been sexually satisfying but something had been missing.

John rounded Sherlock and stood in front of him, eyeing him up and down. The shorter keeper was in combat trousers, boots and a tight white T-shirt that revealed the fluffy zoo keeper was very buff under his zooniform. His upper body was broad and Sherlock secretly eyed him with a thrill. He was so strong...those arms could pin him and take him..he fissioned and John lifted one eyebrow.

"Very pretty Sherlock." he said and Sherlock blushed.

"Okay, I don't know how much you know about the Dom sub dynamics but it can be quite an underground lifestyle. I identify as a Dominant but I am not into twenty-four seven. I just like it occasionally in the bedroom." 

"Okay."

"First lesson...it's 'yes John', understand?" John said, voice commanding.

"Yes...John." Sherlock tried on for size. He had said Johns name before but this was...different. And nice.

"Good." John nodded. "I don't like a pain sub who deliberately mucks about to get punished. You want pain? I'll give it to you. You want more? Ask. You want less? Tell me."

"John..." 

"Yes Sherlock?"

"Am I a pain sub?"

John smiled. He put his hands up under Sherlocks top, running them up to rest on the hard nubs of the taller mans nipples.

"If I pinched and twisted your nipples Sherlock, would you get hard, beg for more, please, harder, hurt me please John?" John said, in a very low, sexy voice.

Sherlock moaned, closing his eyes. His cock thickened and his pulse quickened. His nipples went hard and he arched his chest, just a little, to push them into the warmth of Johns palms.

"Yes John...please...." he whispered.

"Then no, you are not a pain sub...you are a pain slut, and I am going to enjoy taking you apart." John told him, voice intimate in Sherlocks personal space. Then he pinched the very tips of Sherlocks nipples.

Sherlock gasped in three rapid, shuddery breaths, and then moaned "Oh...oh God...yes...." the pain shot to his groin and his cock filled quickly. "Please John, more..."

John did as he was begged, rolling Sherlocks nipples in his fingers. The moan Sherlock gave back was sudden and took the reptile keeper by surprise. Not John though. He laughed happily.

Sherlock automatically brought his arms forward to grab John. John slipped his hands out from Sherlocks top and stepped back.

"No touching yet Sherlock. Do as you are told. Hands behind your back."

"Yes John." Sherlock said breathlessly, and put his arms back behind him. 

"Good, Sherlock." John praised him. "Good."

"Thank you John." Sherlock said, opening his beautiful, breathtaking eyes and staring, pupils wide, into Johns impassive face.

"Take your jacket off." John ordered. "Leave the shirt on."

Sherlocks shaking fingers went instantly to the zip. He slid it down, unhooked the clasp and slid the jacket from his shoulders. He let it floomph to the floor.

John lifted one hand and put it flat, under the shirt, onto the strip of skin that was Sherlocks lower abdomen. It was slightly furry to his palm, warm, and a bit quivery.

"So pretty...." John smiled.

"No...." Sherlock protested. Then he recalled himself. "No, John."

"You are." John insisted, running his hand over the light six pack of Sherlocks abdomen, getting a proper feel for him. It was all nice to take his time, be slow, soft...."So, Sherlock, have you ever thought of being restrained?"

"Oh God..." Sherlock sighed, fluttering his eyes shut.

"Tell me, Sherlock." John demanded, stilling his hand on Sherlocks warm flesh. Then he jostled Sherlock who grunted lightly but did not open his eyes.

"Handcuffs...on my wrists, cold and silver..." He said. "Rope, scratching and welting the tender skin of my wrists as I struggle, leaving bloodied lines, leather at my throat, cold D clamps and chains, bondage tape restraining my arms behind me, wrists, elbows, upper arms. John..." he opened his eyes and stared at his lover. "Please..." he whispered desperately. "I want to struggle and panic and beg..."

"Jesus The Christ, Sherlock....fuck!" John swore, and bit his bottom lip. Restraint was also on his mind, but it was the restraint of not forcing Sherlock on the bed to ravish senseless! Instead he pushed the man to his knees in front of him. Sherlock folded prettily and gracefully, clenching his fists and looking up at John.

John circled behind Sherlock.

"What about gags, Sherlock?"

"Yes Please Joh-"

John clamped his hand forcefully over Sherlocks mouth. Sherlock moaned, eyes rolling, as a shudder rocked him.

"You like that, Sherlock, my hand over your beautiful mouth?" John asked, running his other hand through Sherlocks silky hair. Sherlock nodded with tiny jerks, almost loosing his mind. To have someone control him like this, to give himself over, caused him to moan into the palm across his mouth..... Johns ordinary sized, calloused hand, that seemed to be gigantic, pressed to his lips like this.

Then John grabbed a fistful of Sherlocks hair and jerked his head back. His moan was loud, muffled under John, and his eyes fluttered in pleasure. Having his hair pulled roughly was a secret kink, and John had found it straight away.

John leaned down to Sherlocks ear.

"You like this too, Sherlock? How I can make you squirm with just one hand in your hair?"

Sherlock could only moan and try to nod. John shook him roughly by the hair and Sherlocks moan turned debauched. If he could have, he would have started begging then....

John removed the hand from Sherlocks mouth and pressed it, warm and flat, to Sherlocks long white throat.

"What about choking, Sherlock. Will you let me steal your breath, make you dizzy with lack of blood, only give it back if I decide you earned it?" John murmured, pressing his thumb and pointer finger to each side of Sherlocks Adams apple. Sherlocks mouth dried up.

"...please..." he whispered, looking up at John with only his eyes as his head was still held tightly in John's other hand. John slid his hand down Sherlocks throat and under his shirt. He found one nipple and tortured it, pulling Sherlocks head back again in a wild jerk.

Sherlock gasped and whined, held fast against John, able to do nothing but allow the man access to his tender nipples. He moaned, arching up to the vicious pinching fingers and flopping again when it became too much, only to arch up once again when John hurt him.

"John, please oh God please...please..." he began to beg, eyes closed and sinful lips parted, flushed red and wanting.

John pulled back and, using a quick upwards tug on the mans hair, got Sherlock to stand shakily to his feet. He let go of Sherlocks tresses and stepped back, leaving Sherlock shaking and facing the bed and the wall again.

"Face me." John ordered, and Sherlock tuned around, his back now to the bed. He tried to maintain eye contact but his eyes refused to stay still.

"What about a take down, Sherlock...." John asked then, almost hissing.

"Take down John?" Sherlock asked, voice trembling.

John was on him in a flash, grasping his wrists,using them to pull Sherlocks arms up. His body forced Sherlock back and then his foot tripped the taller man. Sherlock felt himself fall and was suddenly pinned on the bed under Johns stocky, muscled body. It happened so fast Sherlock almost forgot to breathe.

"Take down...." John told him, pinning his wrists above his head and clamping his thighs to Sherlocks hips.

"Gooodddd...." Sherlock moaned, arching up, tipping his head back to display the beauty of his throat, twisting his wrists uselessly under the solid grip of Johns hands. He was trapped, held tight and helpless under Johns strength.

"Mmm, look at you...." John purred, leaning forward put his mouth on Sherlocks neck. "So tasty...." he said into the creamy skin there.

"Please! John, please!" Sherlocks voice had become louder now. He was desperate for so many things!

"My Sherlock, you seem....distracted..." John said, still with his lips to Sherlocks throat. He kissed and nibbled while he was there and Sherlock actually let out a sob.

"John, oh God John, PLEASE!" he arched up, cock desperate for friction.

"What is it Sherlock, what do you need?"

"John...John, I can't...stop, please, oh God..."

"I think,you can do better Sherlock." John purred, now using the tip of his tongue to dance along Sherlocks fevered flesh. "What. Do. You.....neeeed?"

Sherlock sobbed, a whole roil of emotions boiling within him. His blood was over-heating, his cock like lava, his balls scrunched tight against his body. And no relief for his painfully aching cock!

All at once his massive brain gave up, and his need became manifest.

"Inside me John, please, God....INSIDE ME!"

#


	15. FIFTEEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secks!!!!

FIFTEEN

John dropped his pelvis onto Sherlocks cock and Sherlock shuddered.

"Mouth on you Sherlock." John whispered. "Such a slutty mouth...." he lent down and claimed Sherlocks pretty lips with his own, taking Sherlock with a deep but gentle, searching kiss, rubbing his cock obscenely with his own hard clothed prick in a parody of sex. 

Sherlock moaned into his mouth, once again arching, bringing his aching cock up to meet Johns as he dry humped him.

"Anyone been inside you before, Sherlock?" John asked.

"Nobody John, please...be my first?

"Mmmm, romantic AND slutty...I love it!

And John put his mouth to Sherlocks throat, kissing him softly, with a teasy bit of tongue thrown in. Sherlocks eyes fluttered shut and he stretched his chest in a delicious arch, flexing his wrists under John and loving the feeling of not being able to escape.

With a quick flip, John rolled Sherlock on top of him. Sherlock squawked in surprise.

"What...?"

"Oh I may be under you but you still belong to me...I'm going to let YOU decide the depth and speed as this is your first time." John said, lightly rubbing Sherlocks lush arse.

Sherlock frowned.

"Okay John." he said.

"I am just that nice." John whispered, and reached between them to rub at Sherlocks hard cock. 

"oh..." Sherlock breathed.

In three seconds flat it seemed, John had undone his trousers and dragged both them and his pants down to his knees.

"Get yours off Sherlock."

Sherlock scrambled to obey, jumping up and sliding his track suit and pants off. He paused...then took off his t-shirt too.

J smiled and nodded. 

"Lube on the dresser."

Sherlock handed it to John who then held out his arms to welcome him back to his warm body. They kissed deeply again as John super-lubed his cock. Then he rubbed his slick finger over Sherlock's puckered hole. Sherlock moaned into Johns mouth, a lovely deep sound that then gasped off when John slid one lubed finger inside him.

"Oh...John..."

"Nice?"

"Not...sure..."

Then John pressed up and hit that lovely bunch of nerves and Sherlock saw a bright light behind his eyes. He tossed his head up and gasped wordlessly.

"How about now?" John smiled.

"Oh...John, do that....again please!" Sherlock begged.

So John did, and then added another finger. Sherlock barely noticed, so away with the wonderful feelings was he.

Finally John figured Sherlock was open enough for his cock. 

"Sit up love." he ordered softly.

Sherlock sat up and John used his hand to put the head of his cock to Sherlocks softly opened hole. Then he pushed up a bit, his head popping through the tough ring of muscles. Sherlock gasped. 

"Now you get to decide....but Sherlock, when you are ready...I am going to fuck you hard..." John promised, hissing a little as his cock began to slide inside Sherlocks body.

Sherlock gasped again, then turned his hot wide eyes to John.

"Go on, love...it's all yours..." John whispered, and winked.

Sherlock paused, and then began to slide with purpose down Johns hard cock.

John rolled his eyes and groaned 

"Sherlock, oh, you are so hot, so tight!" he whispered, his cock twitching. Then suddenly Sherlock was completely down on him, surrounding him, squeezing him with his strong arse muscles. "So...wet...Christ!"

He dug his fingers into Sherlock's hips, trying to control the urge to just roughly fuck Sherlock in his tight virgin arse. 

Sherlock's breath was coming fast and hard, and John rolled his eyes open to see Sherlock's head was thrown back, lips pressed in a sensuous moan, pleasure radiating from every cell in his body.

Johns gaze drifted down, and saw his cock sliding inside of Sherlock. He groaned in desperation, pure determination the only thing stopping him from coming right then.

He used the his still lubed hand to massage Sherlocks hard cock and Sherlock made a keening sound, rolling his hips and forcing Johns cock against his prostate. 

"Sherlock...you ready...I cannot last..." John gasped, tensing.

"Please John..."

Sherlock rose up slightly and John took him roughly, unable to resist the hot tightness of his velvet arse any longer. He snapped up Inside Sherlock and barely let him breathe before he thrust up again. Sherlock stayed in one position, gasping with each thrust as the fat head of Johns cock rubbed at his swelling prostate. His curls bounced on his forehead and his whole body jerked. It was incredible and frightening and wonderful all at the same time and Sherlock was not sure of he wanted it to end or keep going forever.

He was unaware that he was gasping Johns name with every thrust but John heard and it was doing his head in. With a gritting of his teeth he suddenly fell over the edge and came in hot, rigid spurts deep inside Sherlock. He tried to say something, anything, but it was all just fire and heat!

When Sherlock felt Johns seed bursting inside him, he tensed, and then screamed Johns name as he came in long, hot, drawn out orgasm that curled his toes, arched his back and made his whole brain white out and then spin in fiery circles.

He found himself collapsed on top of John, mumbling 'no no no no' into his neck, as John stroked his hair. It was over, he had come, why was it over, why couldn't it last?

"It's okay Sherlock, we can do this again and again..."

"John.." Sherlock said brokenly.

"Mmmm, it's okay sweets it really is."

"I FEEL..."

John chuckled

"Oh love, so do I.....so do I..."

#


	16. SIXTEEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All that glitters is not gold. Sometimes is freaky dead eyes...

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

John looked at himself in the mirror, quite impressed. He had slicked his hair to the side and had on a truly beautiful charcoal grey suit provided by Mycroft. He smelled pretty too. He was ready for this fundraiser by all the Gods!

He made a last check of the animals, made sure the substitute, a fifth year vet student from the local vet school, was set for the night, then headed out along the path to meet the crew at Forages.

But he was stopped short by the vision waiting under one of the path lights.

Sherlock fucking Holmes in a black velvet suit, white shirt and no tie, hair brushed into a gorgeous riot of inky curls. Grinning shyly at him under his lashes.

"Good Lord above...." John breathed and moved closer, absolutely soaking in his boyfriends tall, beautiful body.

"So...good?" Sherlock asked, hands in his pockets. He looked up a bit more at John and Johns heart went pity pat. "John..." Sherlock added sweetly, a full octave lower and Johns saliva a dried up.

"Perfect...." John murmured, sliding his hands down Sherlock's velvet clad arse and squeezing those perfect globes with his strong hands. Sherlock rumbled a soft sound of appreciation and John kissed him. Deeply, slowly, and with tongue. Sherlock responded by taking his hands out of his pockets and drawing John to him, his warm and strong lover. He moaned softly into John's mouth.

"God, you are so feely in this..." John sighed, rubbing his palms over the soft velvet of Sherlocks trousers. "I don't want to go tonight...I want to fuck you in this suit!"

"Perhaps later...John." Sherlock said, still in a low and almost submissive tone.

"Perhaps? Oh...for sure." John told him and Sherlock smiled and shivered. His head filled with deliciously filthy ideas and he smiled, eyes dark.

"Promise....Sir?"

"Oh that's a promise you gorgeous thing." John told him, and kissed him again.

#

Despite kissing for quite some time, John and Sherlok were still on time for the gatherig at Forages. Everyone looked stunning, even little Dimmock and the usually dusty Hudson. Molly looked beautiful in a red dress, Irene was in a dress so beige it was almost nude, and both Mycroft and Greg had on three piece suits.

"Good lord, don't we scrub up okay?" Greg commented to the room and they all agreed.

Three limos were at the door, provided by Mister Cho Sen. Mycroft, Sherlock, Greg and John took one and the others sorted themselves between the others. Those who were not at Forages were being limoed in from their homes. No expense spared. MisterChoSen was very very rich. Other groups were being driven in their own cars of course but Mister Cho had laid on the best for Baker Street.

"Water filtration must rake it in." Sherlock commented and John laughed. He could not resist sliding his hand over Sherlocks leg to rest at the warmness of his inner thigh. His man in velvet, he could not resist. How he wanted to take him apart, fuck him hard in that suit, over some hard surface, his table, for instance....

Greg noticed John's hand and accompanying flush and grinned. John winked and Mycroft smiled and shook his head a little, staring out the window at the darkness beyond. He was glad. Really glad. Those two were made for each other.

#

Mister Chos house was huge, and lit up with lights like Christmas. The grounds were floodlit and green, and Sherlock saw several black clad and armed security strolling among the trees.

The Baker Street Zoo group were met at the door by Mister Cho Sen himself. He shook Mycrofts hand, ingratiating himself, and then shook Gregs hand, and kissed Molly's and Irene's cheeks, but he made a special point of taking Johns hand in both his.

"I hear what you do in Thailand. Thank you thank you. You keep our animals safe." He said, in his broken English. He was a smiling happily.

John blushed a bit, and Mister Cho Sen moved to another group just arriving.

"I had no idea Mister Sen was Thai." Sherlock said to John, frowning.

"Me neither. I thought he was American." John said.

"That's rascist John!"

"Oh hush you!"

Dinner was lovely, vegetarian as requested, much to some of the other guests disdain, but Mister Cho Sen was an renown animal lover and refused to eat the animals he was trying to save.

After dinner were speeches and then Mycroft, along with other animal sanctuaries, was handed a substantial cheque. The photos op was too good for some people to miss, and flashes popped.

After all this was done, a minion of Mister Cho Sen gathered Mycroft, Greg, Sherlock and John for a private word with the great man. The others were told they could go home now, the night was over for them.

"Through here gentlemen." The minion ushered the men through to a smaller room with gorgeous ornate Balinese furniture and a crackling fire

"Be back in a minute Sherlock, I need to visit grannie." John said quietly as they entered.

"Uh...um..."

"The loo, Sherlock." John chuckled.

"Oh...of course." The black haired man smiled and watched his gorgeous boyfriend inquire as to the facilities and was given directions.

John walked down the hall, hooked a left and pushed open what he thought, from the directions, was the toilet. It was evident in three seconds flat he had taken a wrong turn and found himself in a horrible charnel house of death. He staggered back as set of glassy eyes after set of glassy eyes stated balefully at him from the walls.

Bile rose in his throat. The walls were adorned with heads of stuffed animals. There was a huge bear in the corner, tusks, an elephant foot, taxidermied animals in comical positions, and every single one rare, endangered or even extinct.

John scrabbled for the door, one hand over his mouth in shock. And then, as he yanked open the door, he became angry. The philanthropist and animal activists Mister Cho Sen was a damned murdering hypocrite.

John was very very sure Mycroft would need to hear about this and if he did not shove the cheque up Chos arse then John would do it himself!

#

The first the group gathered in the drawing room knew of Johns discovery was a charcoal grey blur that crashed into the room and charged at Cho.

His two bodyguards were quick, but not quick enough to stop Johns impressive punch connecting with the Thai mans face. He went down and John was suddenly immobilised by four very strong arms. This did not stop John trying to get at Cho again.

"You bastard!" He screamed as he struggled. "You hypocritical bastard!"

"Ah Mister Watson..." Mister Cho said, rolling to his feet and dabbing at the blood on his lip. He motioned one of the guards to let John go to stop Sherlock from leaping to Johns defence.

"John, what's happened?" Sherlock asked, looked over the restraining arm that had come up to bar Sherlocks progress.

"I cannot believe you!" John screamed at Cho, seemingly so angry he could not hear Sherlocks voice.

"I see you found my trophy room." Cho said then, licking the blood off his hands and grinning at John.

"What do you mean?" Mycroft asked then, face confused but voice steady.

"John?" Sherlock asked again.

"He has a room filled with the stuffed bodies of so many animals...Jesus, some are extinct you fucker!" Johns voice raised to a shriek then.  
"Is this true Mister Cho Sen?" Mycroft asked, voice now deadly calm. Greg then stepped to his boyfriends side in case stuff went down.

"You want to give back cheque Mister Holmes?" Cho said then, motioning behind him for some reason.

Mycroft was already holding out the paper. Cho nodded to the guard in Sherlocks face who reached and snatched the cheque from Mycrofts fingers.

"Why? Why did you do this?" John roared, still struggling against the guard.

"Because Mister Watson..." Cho said, as four more men in white coats entered the room. "The warehouse you destroy in Thailand...belong to me."

John saw the syringe plunge into Mycrofts neck and screamed "NO!" before he then felt a sting in his own throat. He saw Mycroft go down, Greg crumple and Sherlock collapse before the world closed in around him and he fell into darkness.


	17. SEVENTEEN

SEVENTEEN

When John came to it was with a blinding headache and a dry mouth. Slowly he came to the realisation that he was tied to a chair, arms lashed to the arms, legs lashed to the legs. He was shirtless and shoeless and the room was warm and dark. A door opened and the brief light made John hiss.

"Ah, good timing." Came Cho Sens voice from a doorway. He was flanked by two black clad armed men which had been called in from patrolling the garden. Cho was smoking a fat cigar and had a very pleased look on his face.

"What..." John started to ask and then coughed around his dry throat.

"What are you doing here?" Cho asked. "I plan all this." He waved his cigar around. "Fundraiser, getting you here, just for you..." He slitted his eyes, and spat sarcastically "John of Thailand".

John snorted. 

"What I did...to your warehouse...I would do that again." he croaked.

"You care more for animals than people, Missa Watson. What does this say about you?"

"You care more for money than either people OR animals." John husked. "That says more about you than me."

Cho Sen growled angrily. How dare this petty man speak back to him? Cho held all the cards! He crossed to John and pressed the cigar to the scar left by the elephant tusk. John grunted and then screamed in pain. 

Through his pain he heard cries of protest. Turning his eyes even as the smell of his own burning skin reached his nose, he saw Greg, Sherlock and Mycroft, who had been tied and tossed into the corner like bags of chaff. A single black clad man had a gun turned on them but that was all. John was obviously the main event. 

"Stop it! Please stop!" Sherlock was screaming and John, gritting his teeth against the pain, managed a wink that choked the protest in Sherlocks throat. Okay, his boyfriend was the strongest man in the world. And the bravest.

Cho snapped the cigar away and blew on the end to remove any nasty skin that remained. John slumped, gasping, tears of pain and anger rolling down his face.

"Feel....better..?" He gasped.

"Not yet. When you dead I feel better."

John snorted. Over the snort he heard a strangled "No!" But did not know who had spoken. His blood was loud in his own ears as he fought the pain in his shoulder.

"How much...did my escapade....cost you..?" John gasped

"What that matter to you? I feel you are not a money man." Cho said, stepping back and scrutinising John. He was a bit confused as to why John was not a sobbing mess.

"I Wanna know what I am worth....to you..."

Cho spat on the ground.

"You worth nothing but you cost me fourteen million. Some of those skins and parts were almost last of their kind."

"Which your men killed."

"Some I shot myself, Mista Watson. And it was a family business. I keep my sons rich, well fed. Now, they have to work in other trades. And one son-in-law die in that warehouse in the fire. The fire YOU set."

"I set...no fire...it was from the fire pit your men was using to stip...the carcasses..."

"It was because of you the fire spread."

"It was chaos...I barely recall how....I got out..."

"You will wish you had died in that fire Mister Watson. I promise you."

John shrugged and hissed because he used his burned shoulder to do so.

"I think you are....trying to scare me...but it's not working." He went on. He turned his ice-fire blue eyes to Mister Cho. "I would die for animals. I would die for your elephants and I would die for my hedgehogs." He sucked in a breath and his voice got stronger. 

"The gap of feelings between you and I is a chasm where animals are concerned. But this revenge you are seeking...it is petty. It distracts you from anything else. It takes time from your work and it blocks your brain. My motives are straight forward and pure.. I will save as many as I can and go down fighting for those who cannot fight for themselves. So, Mister Cho, do your thing. Do it. I don't care. But as you kill me think on this..." John paused, and gathered all his anger into his eyes. "I....am not scared of you."

Cho hissed. He was so used to being the feared and great Cho Sen that he had forgotten such strong men existed. He backhanded John with his considerable strength. Blood flew from Johns broken lip and the men in the corner cried out in fear and protest. But John just laughed.

"...and I am right." He slurred in pain as his lip swelled. He spat out blood. "I can move on. You will always be a petty little dict--" 

Cho punched John in the stomach and all the words flew from Johns brain even as the breath left his body with a choking gasp.

"Knife! Give me your knife now!" Cho screamed, holding out his hand to one of the black clad guards. But the guard had his hand pressed to his ear.

"Sir...helicopters are infiltrating our airspace." He said. As he announced this a low thud thud thud could be heard, coming closer.

"Police cars headed our way too." A second man announced.

Cho swore, slamming down his cigar and stomping on it. This was not going how he planned at all! Petty ants! Petty ants were stopping him from greatness!

"Get them in the tunnels. We go down fighting." He said, motioning to the captives. Then, in frustration, he swung at John again. His fist connected with Johns temple with a sickening thump. The punch was so forcefull the chair he was tied to tipped over. Sherlock, Greg and Mycroft called out in fear.....

But John went down with the chair as once again the dark drew around him. He never felt the ground meet his face with an alarming smack.

#


End file.
